Invictus
by opalish
Summary: Harry Potter disappeared from Privet Drive when he was six years old. Now, ten years later, he's been found...and he's not about to be anyone's hero. ON HIATUS.
1. Prologue: Lost and Found

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, and trust me, I'm making absolutely no money at all from this story.

This is just a little pet project of mine- it won't be updated regularly, so don't keep reading if that pisses you off.

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_Invictus_

_Out of the night that covers me,_

_Black as the Pit from pole to pole,_

_I thank whatever gods may be_

_For my unconquerable soul._

_In the fell clutch of circumstance_

_I have not winced nor cried aloud._

_Under the bludgeonings of chance_

_My head is bloody, but unbowed._

_Beyond this place of wrath and tears_

_Looms but the horror of the shade,_

_And yet the menace of the years_

_Finds, and shall find me, unafraid._

_It matters now how strait the gate,_

_How charged with punishments the scroll,_

_I am the master of my fate:_

_I am the captain of my soul._

_--William Ernest Henley_

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**Prologue: Lost and Found**

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"We've found him."

Albus, his bushy eyebrows rising in interest, transferred his gaze from his desk to the young auror that had just burst into his office. His quill was poised over a long roll of parchment, a drop of ink slowly forming on the tip.

He could barely remember a time without paperwork. He had a war to fight, a school to run, a Ministry to advise…so much to do, and so little time with which to do it…

What was the muggle saying? No rest for the weary, that was it.

And it was barely after dawn. Fawkes was still slumbering peacefully on his perch, and the portraits of Headmasters past were all likewise occupied.

Old Fortescue was snoring particularly loudly, mumbling about goblins and ice-cream and, oddly enough, purple gophers. A touch of madness, alas, was a common trait in Headmasters (and Headmistresses as well, of course). Albus blamed the paperwork- not that any of his predecessors had to worry any longer about writing endless letters or all that Merlin-blasted filing...

Albus could hardly believe he was jealous of a bird and a few paintings. But he was so tired these days, so very tired. It was all he could do to hide his exhaustion from his visitor.

"Ah, Nymphadora," he greeted the frazzled auror with a smile, hiding a flicker of amusement when she winced at the sound of her name. Only he was able to get away with calling her Nymphadora any more. Not even her mother was allowed to call her by her given name, not since before the metamorphmagus had graduated Hogwarts. "You're looking well, my dear. And how are your parents? And Sirius?"

Sirius. The former Gryffindor had only been free for a few years now, and was still haunted by his time in prison. Albus would never forgive himself for that mistake. He had testified against Sirius, hadn't spoken out when the boy was deprived a trial…and so an innocent man had gone to Azkaban. The very thought of it was enough to keep him awake at night, despite his almost constant state of exhaustion.

No, that he would never forgive himself. But it was no good dwelling on the past, not when there was so much to do in the present...

The woman before him drew him out of his reverie with an impatient sight, her hair going crimson. Not for the first time, Albus wondered if her transformations were really entirely under her control, or if some of them happened in response to her changes of mood. But that was neither here nor there, and he had little time for trivialities.

"Mum and Dad are great," Nymphadora said with exaggerated patience. "Sirius is getting better every day. But sir, that's not important at the moment. _We've found him._"

"Pardon?"

The drop of ink quivered on the end of his quill, opaque and fat.

Nymphadora smiled, her hair changing to a bright, spiky pink. "Harry Potter, Headmaster. We've found Harry Potter."

The drop fell, splashing against the parchment. Albus' heart raced, and he felt as if he'd just been running a race or dueling. All thoughts of tiredness evaporated like dew in the sun.

Harry Potter. Harry Potter, who had disappeared when he was just a young child. Harry Potter, so long thought dead.

Harry Potter. Alive. _Found_.

"He's in Auror Headquarters," Nymphadora continued, grinning almost maniacally at the rare sight of a stunned Albus Dumbledore. "Amelia Bones is questioning him right now; I think Kingsley's with her. She wants you there as soon as possible."

Albus carefully set down his quill and replaced the stopper in his ink well. His movements were precise, but his eyes distant. When he spoke, his voice came out thin and creaky.

"I'll go immediately."


	2. Chapter One: A Very Bad Day

_You can learn a lot about a person if you just take the time to inject them with sodium pentothal. -Anonymous_

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Harry scowled, glaring sullenly at the aurors surrounding him. Most of them glared back. Harry couldn't really blame them, though, as he'd been doing his best all morning to piss them off.

Today was turning out to be a very bad day, and it was only, what, a little after six in the morning? Well, if he had to suffer, he'd drag them down with him.

No, he wasn't bad-tempered in the _least_. Really.

"Now," said the old woman in charge of his interrogation, a stern harridan by the name of Amelia Bones, "for the last time, where have you been? We have no record of you after you were six, when you disappeared from your relations' home."

Harry remained stubbornly silent, though he felt like growling that he knew very well how old he'd been when he left the Dursleys, thanks, and could she please back the hell off. Instead, he remained stubbornly mute, his eyes narrowed and lips twisted into a nasty sneer.

Nearly a dozen aurors were arrayed before him, looking foreboding and grim. And he, of course, was seated in a hard, scuffed wooden chair, the very picture of a criminal being interrogated. It was like something out of the bad muggle mystery novels Aunt Petunia had so enjoyed reading.

Oh yes, this was a _very _bad day.

"Mister Potter," Bones snapped, her weathered, lined face flushing angrily, "I have neither the time nor the patience to deal with your childish petulance. You will answer my questions."

"Not bloody likely," he said snidely. He even managed to inject a bit of a slouch into his posture, something that really shouldn't have been possible given the shape of the chair. Of course, he didn't truly need to slouch to look insolent. He could look insolent in his sleep, an accomplishment of which Harry was particularly proud.

Ten years. Ten years, now, that he'd been on his own, ten years of teaching himself how to survive, to fight, to access and use his powers. Ten years with only himself to fully trust, to truly rely on. He wasn't about to go and spill his guts now, and especially not to a bunch of jumped up magical coppers.

Bones was definitely getting peeved. Harry inwardly smiled. Misery truly does love company.

"Look here, Potter," she growled, her graying hair somehow making her seem more fierce rather than infirm, "I can very well give you a truth serum if you continue to refuse to cooperate."

Harry shrugged carelessly, knowing a bluff when he saw one. Bones was the no-nonsense sort; if she could've used a truth serum, then she would have done so right from the start, rather than question him futilely for nearly an hour. "Good for you."

"Appalling, wretched little…" she muttered under her breath before trailing off, her teeth clenching and her pale eyes darkening with anger. Harry couldn't stop the corners of his lips from twitching.

"Want me to fetch the Veritaserum, Amelia?" a tall black auror asked, his voice rich and deep. A gold stud glinted in one ear, reflecting the dull orange light emanating from the ceiling. The orange light was the only source of illumination- the room was rather dusky, shrouding everything in shadows. Really, when combined with the aurors circling him and trying to look intimidating, it was all rather horribly clichéd.

Harry rolled his eyes at the auror's question. "I'm not a complete moron," he informed them acidly. "I know very well that Veritaserum can only be used during trials, or if there's proof of a crime and at least two Wizengamot members overseeing the questioning. I haven't done anything wrong, and there's only one Wizengamot member here." _And thank you, Chance_, he thought privately, _for being Slytherin enough to fully educate me as to my rights and wizarding law._

"In fact," he continued coldly, while making a mental note to visit his old friend as soon as possible, "you shouldn't even be holding me here. I could have you all brought up on charges for unlawful detainment and interrogation." He spoke matter-of-factly, his voice free of arrogance or conceit. He suspected that Bones would otherwise have strangled him, judging from her angry scowl and gimlet gaze.

Oh yeah. Very, very bad day. And why did he have to have so many of them, anyway?

Harry was, without doubt, an extremely private person. He certainly wasn't going to explain to these people why he'd run away from the Dursleys so many years before, or where he'd been since, or who he'd associated with. They could just stew, if they were that anxious.

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_If the whole world depends on today's youth, I can't see the world lasting another 100 years. -Socrates_

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Amelia studied the Boy Who Lived, a frown creasing her face. Harry Potter wasn't at all what she'd expected. As far as she could tell, he was nothing much like either of his parents, and he certainly wasn't the brave little Gryffindor that so many people had predicted he'd grow up as.

James Leonard Potter had been arrogant and conceited, granted, but above all else, he'd been charismatic and personable. Lily Evans Potter had been a brave, kind, strong, charming young woman.

Harry Potter was a sharp-tongued, sneering, acerbic bastard. And yet…and yet, she couldn't help but feel that, with time, she'd come to like him more than she ever had his parents. There was just something about him, something that made her like him even when she was tempted to strangle him for being an irritating little prat.

Really, he seemed to be a strange mix of two young men she knew: Severus Snape and Sirius Black. He had Severus' biting wit and harsh honestly, and Sirius' good looks, or at least the good looks he'd possessed before Azkaban, and his easy sensuality. And there was something in his eyes, the haunted gleam she'd seen in Sirius gaze ever since he'd been freed.

She wondered, with a pang of apprehension, what horrors Potter had seen in his life. His eyes were so old…

But they only added to his overall allure, she had to admit, knowing that young Susan and her friends would almost certainly be chasing after the boy once he went to Hogwarts- and he would go, she'd make sure of that. The boy needed someone to watch him, especially with Voldemort resurrected and the Death Eaters regrouping. He'd almost certainly be in mortal peril.

Of course, the air of danger would just make him seem even more desirable to the girls- and Amelia was still young enough to note in a detached way that he was already desirable enough on his own. Yes, the lad was certainly handsome, with those eyes and his long, messy black hair. His skin was a pleasant golden tan, his features strong and even. And his jeans, t-shirt, and leather jacket did nothing at all to hide his lean but muscled physique.

Really. What muggles wore these days…it was positively scandalous. Thank Merlin Susan was a proper young witch, and didn't bother herself with muggle clothes.

At least, Amelia didn't think her grand-niece bothered with muggle clothing.

But Potter's clothes weren't the worst of it. He was wearing _earrings_: a platinum stud in one ear, and several small hoops through the shell of the other. Harry Potter with earrings. Utterly incredible. Though, if she was correct, the jewelry served more than just decorative purposes. She was almost positive that they contained protection spells- metal was good at storing magic.

His defenses weren't just in the form of his earrings, though- they'd confiscated two wands and four knives from the boy, as well as a length of wire of which Amelia really didn't want to ponder the use. She knew for a fact that Potter was only sixteen, but he was armed like an auror.

Frankly, the aging woman wasn't sure what to think of Harry Potter, except that he was infuriatingly quiet when she wanted him to talk, and snide enough when he did speak to make Amelia wistfully recall his earlier silence.

And then she wondered, with a slow and wicked smirk that was completely out of place on a former Hufflepuff's face, what Dumbledore would make of the Boy Who Lived.

Someone sidled into the room, startling Amelia out of her reverie. Ah, young Duncan Michaels, the newest recruit. A good lad, if a bit too bound by convention. A few months in the field would shape him up quickly or he'd wash out.

He hurried to her side and whispered, "Headmaster Dumbledore's in your office, Ma'am." He shot a curious glance at Harry, who bared his teeth in response. Michaels paled, and the younger boy smirked.

She hid a smile, wondering how Michaels would fare against someone like Harry in a duel. Harry didn't seem one to care about playing by the rules, if he even realized there were rules to follow in a fight; chances were he'd trounce the new auror in a matter of moments.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Kingsley Shacklebolt frowning at Duncan in disapproval. Kingsley definitely knew how to fight dirty, and he had a certain amount of disdain for those who were easily intimidated or felt that cheating was worse than losing.

Honor was all well and good, but it didn't mean much to a corpse.

"Stay here," she ordered Michaels, who nodded reluctantly, edging away from the slightly feral-looking Harry Potter. Kingsley shook his head in dismay, and a few of the other aurors seemed similarly irritated with the skittish recruit. "I'll be back presently." She nodded to Potter, who frowned warily at her sudden chance in mood, then strode out of the room.

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_Among life's perpetually charming questions is whether the truly evil do more harm than the self-righteous and wrong. -Jon Margolis_

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"Ah, Madam Bones," Albus said the moment the door opened. He stood and greeted the Head of Magical Law Enforcement with a benevolent smile. "Wonderful to see you again, my dear."

Amelia chuckled and strode forward to briefly embrace the Headmaster. "You can turn off the charm, Albus. Harry's in Auror Headquarters, and let me tell you, he is being _most _uncooperative."

"Oh?" Albus asked. It was decidedly odd, meeting a Hufflepuff as grim and pragmatic as the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Most Hufflepuffs tended to be a bit…well, flaky, as much as he hated to stereotype. He did have high hopes for Susan Bones, though, and Zacharias Smith wasn't too bad, either, even if he was a bit temperamental.

Amelia leaned against her desk, not bothering to sit down- they wouldn't be in her office for long. Really, Albus recalled, she didn't spend much time there at all, as was evidenced by the sheer bareness of the room. A desk, three chairs, and a bookshelf full of defense manuals, and that was it. No pictures or other personal touches- the woman's office was a place to do paperwork, and that was it. Amelia had always been more one for fieldwork.

"Yes, I'm getting quite exasperated with him," she said, apparently of Harry, while wearing a stern frown. "It almost seems like he is actively _trying _to provoke me."

Albus was a bit surprised- it never occurred to him that young Harry might be difficult. But then, what did he really know about the lad? Harry had been a good-natured, cheerful baby, but he was a teenager now, and quite a bit could happen to a person in fifteen years.

"What is he like?" he asked, praying that the boy wasn't another Tom Riddle. He wasn't sure the world could survive two powerful dark wizards…and there was little doubt that Harry would be powerful. He did, after all, have the potential to destroy Voldemort once and for all.

Amelia smiled almost fondly, an expression quite at odds with her earlier show of irritation. "He's sarcastic, moody, and disrespectful, but I like him and I'm almost certain you will too."

This wasn't exactly reassuring- Albus had liked Tom, after all, even when he'd suspected the Slytherin of getting young Myrtle Arbore killed.

"Come on, then," Amelia said, "it's past time you met him."


	3. Chapter Two: The Minister of Morons

Many thanks to **Nimbirosa** and **M'cha Araem**, who beta'd this for me! They're both loverly, loverly people, and I command you to go read their various fictions. _Now_.

Disclaimer can be found in the prologue. I think...please tell me I didn't forget it. I'm too lazy to check if I did forget, so just take my word for it: I am not JKR, and I do not own Harry Potter. For Chrissakes, I'm a seventeen year old moron of a high school senior!

And on to the story... Review responses are at the end of the chapter.

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_A little rudeness and disrespect can elevate a meaningless interaction to a battle of wills and add drama to an otherwise dull day. _

_-Bill Watterson_

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Harry knew who Albus Dumbledore was, of course. He'd been a part of the wizarding world for years, even if he'd used a different name and hid his scar, and everyone in the magical world knew about Dumbledore. A person couldn't stay up-to-date on magical Britain without hearing about the celebrated Headmaster of Hogwarts.

Albus Dumbledore, the only person Voldemort ever feared. Albus Dumbledore, who defeated the Dark Lord Grindelwald. Albus Dumbledore, the alchemical genius. Albus Dumbledore, the Transfiguration Master. Albus Dumbledore, the Dueling Champion. Albus Dumbledore, Order of Merlin, First Class. And Albus Dumbledore, champion of ten-pin bowling, but for some reason people didn't often talk about that.

Well, Harry supposed that a man could get a hell of a lot accomplished during a hundred and fifty years of life.

Dumbledore was always in the newspapers, always respected and looked up to…especially now that Voldemort was back. His picture was on the Prophet's front page almost every day, and book stores were full of his many biographies.

So Harry easily recognized the man who strode into the Headquarters, bright purple and orange robes swirling about his ankles.

Bowling champion the man might be, but he clearly had no fashion sense whatsoever. But then, the man was getting on in age...

Harry hesitated to call Dumbledore old, though- the aging hero had too much life to him, too much love for living apparent in his eyes, to be old. There was no hint of feebleness or senility about him, no apparent negative effects of his age (other than those godawful robes, but then again, Dumbledore could just be extremely eccentric). But his face was weathered and wrinkled, his hair and beard white, his glimmering eyes obscured by half-moon glasses.

The aurors all automatically made way for the Headmaster, allowing him to walk straight up to the chair Harry currently inhabited. Harry fought the urge to roll his eyes at their unconscious subservience. He didn't believe there was anyone who automatically deserved respect. A person had to earn it, no matter how important they already were.

For anyone else, then, Harry wouldn't have stood. But he couldn't help but feel a certain admiration and liking for the aging man. Anyone brave enough to wear those robes in public _had _to be worth knowing.

Even if Dumbledore had been the one to send him to the Dursleys.

So Harry stood and offered Dumbledore a slight bow, one which was only mostly mocking. Dumbledore inclined his head in return, humor and something like joy gleaming in his blue eyes.

And then the two locked gazes. For a long few moments, they simply stared at each other, a quiet battle of wills. Dumbledore's stare was uncomfortably piercing, and Harry felt for a moment like the Headmaster was somehow seeing his thoughts, reading his mind.

Harry looked away first, not wanting to draw the encounter out longer than necessary. Or at least, that's what he told himself.

"Headmaster Dumbledore," he said as neutrally as possible.

"Mister Potter," Dumbledore replied, a small smile curling his lips. "Walk with me."

Puzzled, but eager to escape Auror Headquarters, Harry nodded. Right before he followed Dumbledore out the door, he pivoted and offered Bones a jaunty salute. She sighed and shook her head in amusement, and Harry knew he'd won another person over to the Harry Potter Fan Club.

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_The willing, Destiny guides them; the unwilling, Destiny drags them. _

_-Seneca the Younger_

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Harry walked beside Dumbledore, refusing to be led. Besides, Dumbledore had said 'walk _with_ me', not 'follow me like a lovesick crup'.

Neither of them spoke; Harry wanted Dumbledore to talk first, and Dumbledore clearly wanted to find a more private place before they began their conversation.

They finally entered a small, empty office. The walls were white, and light streamed in through a false window. There was no furniture, nothing to give the room personality. Harry wondered if that was why Dumbledore had chosen it- the room wouldn't distract from what the Headmaster wanted to say.

Dumbledore closed the door and warded the room, ensuring their privacy. Harry leaned against the wall opposite the door, unwilling to make this easy for the man who had sent him to the hellhole on Privet Drive.

When he was done with the warding, Dumbledore turned to him, face grave and eyes dimmed. "Mister Potter," he said quietly, "we must discuss our options."

Harry managed to keep his expression clear, though inside he burned with curiosity, worry, and a vague, undefined resentment. "Oh?"

"Indeed. You are only just sixteen, Mister Potter, still a full year from reaching adult status in our world. You will need a guardian."

Harry somehow suppressed a sudden flash of unadultured rage. When he spoke, his voice was calm and steady, if somewhat frigid.

"You are assuming that I wish to remain in the wizarding world."

Dumbledore didn't look surprised, but his expression grew grim and his eyes darkened with disappointment. Harry was rather surprised that the Headmaster hadn't called Harry's bluff- he knew he was good, but _that_ good?

Of course, the Headmaster wasn't about to give up. He murmured a few words under his breath and waved his wand; Harry recognized the spell and wand movement as belonging to a particularly powerful warding and silencing charm.

As if the ones in effect weren't enough- even Harry would have had trouble breaking through them.

"There is a prophecy, Mister Potter," Dumbledore said without preamble, once the spell took effect. "One made many years ago, concerning Lord Voldemort and yourself."

Harry blinked, the only sign of his surprise. "A prophecy?" he demanded somewhat skeptically, not having to feign his disbelief.

"Of us all, only you can defeat Voldemort, Harry. One of you must triumph over the other," Dumbledore said solemnly.

"Right," Harry snorted, his natural cynicism coming through in spades. "And I suppose it's one of those kill or be killed situations?" His tone was saturated with sarcasm. He certainly hadn't expected Dumbledore to use a tactic like this. It was…underhanded.

"_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…. Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…. And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not…and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies_," the Headmaster recited quietly, even a bit sadly.

Harry stared, going a bit pale as the import of the words sank in. He spent a few moments trying to convince himself that the prophecy didn't mean what he thought it did, before he gave up on self-delusion, at least for the moment. "You aren't kidding, are you." It was a statement, not a question.

"No, I'm afraid not," Dumbledore said tiredly.

Well, to give the man credit, he did sound genuinely regretful. But still…

Fuck. This changed things.

"You're sure it's me?" Harry asked, knowing in his gut that he _was _the one in the prophecy. It made sense, after all, and there was a terrible sort of inevitability to it all that set Harry's nerves on edge.

Dumbledore sighed, then reached out slowly towards Harry, who jerked away before the Headmaster could make contact. The old man hesitated, hurt flashing in his gaze, then answered. "He has marked you as his equal. You are the one, Harry."

Harry's mind went blank, then began to race feverishly. What were his options? What could he possibly do to get out of this?

He could tell Dumbledore to fuck off and find some other savior. He could whine about it not being fair. He could let his anger out, throw a tantrum, curse and rage and shout. He could protest, insist that Dumbledore was mistaken.

He could face his fate, avenge his parents and himself.

But Dumbledore had no other savior, and Harry had long ago given up on life being fair. Anger wouldn't solve anything, even if it was satisfying. And no way was Dumbledore mistaken about something this big.

Well, that left one course of action. Only, Harry wasn't about to throw his life away in some stupid quest to kill the Dark Lord. He wasn't a coward by any means, but caution and self-preservation had been beaten into him from a young age.

Besides, he'd never believed in fate. People made their own decisions and forged their own paths through life. Destiny was rubbish.

"There was one other," Dumbledore added softly, gaze pensive and sorrowful. "One other it could have been. But you...Voldemort marked you as his equal; you are the one with the power to destroy him."

"Well then," Harry said softly, almost dangerously, his jaw tight and his head held high, "I suppose I'll just have to win."

Harry didn't much care about revenge or fate or any of that. But Harry did care about living, and he suspected he'd be better off fighting Voldemort than running from him. At least he'd have allies, if he fought, and there was safety in numbers. And if things got too bad...well, he could always take off then.

But for now, he'd do his damnedest to win.

Because above all else, Harry was a survivor.

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_The object of war is not to die for your country, but to make the other bastard die for his. _

_-George S. Patton_

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"Well then, I suppose I'll just have to win."

Albus blinked in surprise, then chuckled, glad that the boy hadn't thrown a fit or tried to protest his destiny. "I believe, Mister Potter, that you have a fighting chance."

Harry grinned crookedly, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I hope so. I don't intend to lose, Headmaster, and I _definitely _don't intend to die."

"Then we must plan," Albus said decisively, relief blossoming in his chest. Relief that Harry would fight…and relief that he was strong enough to bear this burden and persevere. Yes, the youth was definitely strong. Albus could see the iron in his eyes. "And the first step is finding you a guardian."

The boy's face immediately went blank. Albus, in spite of himself, was unnerved. He was good at reading people, exceedingly so, but at the moment, Harry was a closed book to him.

No, Harry Potter wasn't what he'd expected. But maybe...maybe that wasn't a bad thing, after all. This boy, damaged and burdened and scarred as he was, nevertheless was hard enough and sharp enough to prove a formidable opponent for Voldemort.

"I refuse to return to the Dursleys," Harry said in a voice like midwinter. Albus frowned, wryly reflecting that the Boy Who Lived could prove formidable opponent of more than just Voldemort. Albus wasn't easily intimidated, but he had a suspicion now that Harry was much more powerful than he was letting on, and wouldn't hesitate to use that power if need be. Resolving to do his best not to antagonize the lad, he decided to try reasoning with Harry rather than ordering him about.

"You were placed with the Dursleys because of the blood ties between your mother and your aunt. While you're with the Dursleys, Voldemort and his followers cannot touch you. You are safe there." He used his softest, most persuasive tone, the one that normally had people agreeing with him before they'd even fully registered his words. He wasn't surprised that his tone didn't have the same affect on Harry.

"I might be safe from Voldemort, there," the boy spat, a deep anger in his eyes, "but not from the Dursleys themselves." Albus wondered, his heart sinking in his chest, exactly what the boy's relatives had done to him that could inspire such rage.

"Harry-" he began, only to be cut off.

"They starved me, kept me locked in a cupboard, hit me, called me names. I won't go back to them. You left me there once- yes, I know that it was you, I'm not an idiot. You won't leave me with them again." Harry's words were defiant, his gaze challenging.

Albus' heart skipped a beat as he processed what Harry had told him. Arabella had told him that the Dursleys weren't kind to Harry, and he'd kept his own watch on the boy, but he'd never imagined it was that bad. "You were only six when you left them. Surely they wouldn't have-"

"Age didn't seem to matter." Harry's voice was hard as diamonds and just as sharp.

Sickened, Albus briefly closed his eyes. "I swear, Harry, that I didn't know."

"You didn't want to know." Harry spoke almost savagely, lip curled in a sneer. "You never checked up on me, or sent someone else to make sure I was being treated all right, did you? You didn't want to know."

"I am sorry," Albus said sincerely, even though he knew very well that 'sorry' would never be enough.

Albus half expected Harry to sneer again, or to make another cutting remark. But inexplicably, his woefully inadequate apology seemed to soften the young man's wrath.

"I suppose you are, at that," the lad sighed. "But I'm not your pawn, Dumbledore. Do something like that to me again, and I'll leave and let you clean up your own mess, and prophecy be damned."

Albus studied Harry, seeing only honesty and a hint of lingering anger in his bright Avada Kedavra green gaze. He would make good on his threat, of that Albus had no doubt.

And for a moment, all Albus could feel was a blinding admiration for this boy, this boy who, all on his own, had become so strong and confident and powerful. His parents would have been bursting with pride.

So, rather than arguing or making useless promises, Albus merely inclined his head a fraction of an inch and said, "I understand."

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_Truth, justice, honor...none of that's worth shit. What matters is people, and people aren't honest or just or honorable. They're petty and they're angry and they're afraid, and all anyone really wants, deep down, is to be wanted. And what's truth to that? _

_-M. Clark_

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"Can't I stay on my own?" Harry asked when the ensuing silence became uncomfortable. Or rather, _more _uncomfortable. "I've been on my own for a decade, you know."

"The Ministry won't allow it," Dumbledore immediately denied, shaking his head. "In fact, the Minister will likely wish to make you a ward of the Ministry. He will want to control you."

"Fat chance of that," Harry scoffed, pushing away from the wall he'd been leaning on so he could stand up straight. "The Minister is a moron. He couldn't control a bloody toddler."

Dumbledore's lips twitched and his eyes sparkled. He looked up at the ceiling in feigned nonchalance. "It is not my place to say. But might I ask how you came to know of the magical world?"

"You can ask," Harry said with a one-sided shrug, inwardly wondering when Dumbledore would finally get fed up with his standoffishness. "I won't answer, though." He might like the Headmaster so far, but Dumbledore _had_ been the one to leave him with the Dursleys. Clearly, the man wasn't entirely trustworthy. And Harry never gave out information without a good reason, especially not to those he didn't trust.

"No, I didn't suppose you would." The Headmaster still looked disappointed, despite this claim. "Ah well. A story for a rainy day, perhaps?"

Harry shrugged again, not giving an inch. He wasn't about to go easy on the elderly Headmaster. "Yeah, maybe. Now, what are my other options?"

"There are two. Either I could adopt you, or your godfather could take you in."

Stunned, Harry stared at Dumbledore for what felt like a short eternity. There were so many things off with that offer, Harry didn't know where to start. So he fell back to his usual manner of speaking- incoherent rambling. "You? Adopt me? And I have a godfather?"

"Your godfather is Sirius Black."

Harry's eyes widened. Sirius Black…the only person to have ever escaped from Azkaban. The man had managed to collect the evidence to prove his innocence after he'd broken out, and was declared free when Harry was fourteen. The story had been in all the wizarding papers. Harry vaguely remembered pictures a gaunt, greasy man with a scraggly beard.

But wouldn't he have heard if Sirius Black was his godfather? "None of the articles-"

"Not many people know Sirius is your godfather," Dumbledore interrupted to quickly explain the situation. "Your parents thought it best that only those they trusted most were told. They knew of the prophecy, and feared any godparent would be in excess danger because of their relationship to you."

Harry swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. He'd never even considered whether he had a godparent before. To find that he did...it was shocking, to say the least. "I…I don't even know him," he said weakly.

"You barely know me," Dumbledore pointed out imperturbably.

Harry could only shake his head. This was all just too much to process at once, what with the prophecy and all. Now this... A godfather. A godfather he didn't know.

At least Harry knew where he stood with Dumbledore. And the Headmaster wouldn't try to parent him. Probably. Most likely.

But a godfather…that was practically _family_.

Family. Harry had always wanted a real family...but then, weren't the Dursleys family? And they treated him like shit.

Screw family.

"Adoption," Harry said firmly, ignoring the little voice in the back of his mind screaming that he was making a mistake, that he should give Black a chance.

Dumbledore, to Harry's surprise, looked guiltily pleased with his decision. "Very well. Now comes the question of your education. I assume that you do know some magic?"

"Enough to be getting on with," Harry agreed, vastly understating his own abilities. But it rarely hurt to be underestimated.

Dumbledore, unsurprisingly, saw through his statement. "Do you know enough to join the sixth years at Hogwarts?"

Harry briefly considered informing the Headmaster that he was quite a bit above the sixth year level, thank you very much, but decided that, once more, the information would be best held in reserve.

"Yeah, I suppose," he said instead.

"Very good," Dumbledore said with a nod. "You will have to be tested, just so we can be certain, but I imagine you'll do fine."

Harry simply nodded.

"We should meet with the Minister as soon as possible to have the adoption papers signed and approved. We can go right now; in fact, it would be best if we did."

Harry hesitated, a worried frown creasing his brow. "What if he doesn't agree? Or tries to make me a ward of the Ministry? And won't there be accusations of favoritism?" Not that he cared what anyone thought of him, but Dumbledore couldn't afford to have his reputation damaged, not in the middle of a war, not when everyone was looking to him for guidance.

"As long as you work hard and do your best in classes, Harry, there will be no basis for any such accusations. And at this point in the war, my dear boy," Dumbledore said with a sly smile that bordered on malicious, "it would be political suicide for Minister Fudge to deny me anything."

Harry cocked an eyebrow, then slowly smirked. If it worked for Dumbledore...

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_Practical politics consists in ignoring facts. _

_-Henry Brooks Adams_

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Albus stared at Harry as the lad made known his requirements. Cornelius looked completely flabbergasted, and Albus, though he hid it better, felt much the same.

He certainly hadn't expected young Mister Potter to march into the Minister's office and begin reeling off a list of demands. It was so...audacious, so arrogant a move, that not even James Potter could have pulled it off. But Harry wasn't James.

The boy wanted to be able to perform underage magic, as well as apply for an Apparating license. He wanted the key to his Gringotts vault, and Albus himself as his guardian. And then, at the end, he grudgingly added, "I suppose I should register as an Animagus, as well."

Albus' eyebrows shot up. Harry was an Animagus? How very…unexpected. But perhaps he should get used to expecting the unexpected, when it came to the Boy Who Lived.

Fudge mouthed wordlessly, his bowler hat clutched to his chest. "I…Harry-"

"Mister Potter," Harry corrected him easily. Dumbledore bit back a smile, and knew he'd be laughing loud and hard the moment he had some privacy.

"Oh, come now, Harry-"

"_Mister Potter_." Harry's voice was positively frigid. Fudge actually trembled. Albus' sides were beginning to ache from holding in his merriment. It was so blessedly wonderful, watching a sixteen year old boy put the Minister soundly in his place.

"Ah, right, Mister Potter, I really couldn't-"

"Of course," Harry continued mercilessly, with a calculating gleam in his intelligent eyes, "I'm sure the press would love to hear that you're endangering me."

"Endangering!" Cornelius sputtered indignantly, red-faced.

"By not allowing me to defend myself, obviously," Harry said matter-of-factly, as if his conclusion should have been obvious to the Minister.

"Are you threatening me, Mister Potter?" Cornelius drew himself up to his full height, the very picture of outraged majesty. It would have been rather more effective had he not been the shortest, plumpest person in the room.

"You sure catch on quick." Harry's tone practically dripped with sarcasm.

Albus coughed to cover up his chuckle. This was one memory he'd certainly replay many a time in his pensieve.

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_Oderint, dum metuant. -- Let them hate, so long as they fear. _

_-Accius_

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"Masterfully done, Harry," Albus murmured as they strolled back towards the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Those they passed on the way stared at Harry, as his scar was starkly visible on his forehead. Harry didn't seem to notice the stares, but Albus suspected the lad did indeed notice, and was ignoring the attention.

"It was ridiculously easy, you mean," the boy returned with a disgusted frown. "You'd think people would elect someone with brains, once in a while. You know, just for the hell of it."

"Cornelius Fudge is, in his own way, quite cunning," Albus replied, a hint of warning in his voice. It wouldn't do for Harry to underestimate his opponents, even one such as Cornelius Fudge. And Fudge, after that little scene, was now most definitely an opponent.

Harry just shook his head, disregarding his warning. "A dog or a rat can be cunning. You need more than just cunning to be either useful or powerful. The only reason Fudge is at all dangerous is because he's so completely incompetent. No, cunning, at least on its own, is worthless."

"And do you have more than just cunning, Mister Potter?" Albus asked quietly, wondering what the boy would say in reply. Would he be offended? From what he'd seen, the young Potter heir had a rather thick skin, but still...

Harry's eyes darkened, and his lips quirked in a strange, twisted smile. "I'd like to think that I'm more than just a rat," he drawled, an odd note in his voice. They'd reached the Headquarters, and had stopped right outside its glass doors. Albus could see the inhabitants watching them curiously.

"I daresay you are much, much more than a rat, Mister Potter," Albus said dryly. "And likely more than I can imagine."

For a long moment, Harry merely looked at him, emerald eyes filled with…something. Albus couldn't read the emotions, and that troubled him. He was a master at reading people, but this child was bordering on inscrutable.

Child. No, perhaps he wasn't a child. Not a grown man…but too hard, too wise, too broken to be a child.

Then Harry shrugged, dissipating the odd, tense spell they'd been under. "I expect I'm not the only one that's more than he seems," he said almost carelessly. He opened the door and bowed mockingly for the second time that morning, sweeping a hand forward. "After you."

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**Review Responses**

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**Flying with the pixies**: Thanks!

**Shadowface**: does have an inordinate number of difficulties, doesn't it? Ah well...it's better than nothing. And I'm afraid that Harry, like every teenaged boy, will have his moments of stupidity.

**Josephine J. Turpin**: Aww...not the best you've ever seen? Sniffles. Just kidding...you want good fanfiction, go read A Year Like None Other. I can't believe it got kicked off well. And no, you don't sound snobbish, just uncommonly intelligent.

**Keeper Darius**: Thanks! This soon enough?

**Nimbirosa**: Why, thanks. I always have trouble with the stupid summaries. Grr. And yes, your story can certainly be called a hugely AU one. Grins. Tried to review it, actually, but bloody won't let me. Scowl. As you know now, no need to worry about HarrySusan; and yes, sarcastic Harry is a beautiful, beautiful thing. Is it wrong to have a crush on a fictional character? Hangs head. Glad you like the quotes.

**E.A.V**: Thanks! Hope you enjoy! The Slytherin thing will be explained...it has to do with the Chance character mentioned in the first chapter, as well as a few other friends Harry's found along the way. Everything else will eventually be revealed...except that no, he doesn't smoke. He's got other vices.

**jbcna**: A great story? Well shucks...

**Quillian**: Yes! C2! I just wish there was a way for me to know exactly what C2 archives my stories have been put in. As for how Harry knows about magic, you'll have to wait for a bit. And I certainly didn't mean for Bones to come across as a bigot, just as a slightly conservative old woman. She wasn't meant to degrade muggles, but rather teenage muggle fashion. Sorry, and I hope this clears that up. Thanks for the review!

**Wiccachic2000**: I like this story more than Lucifer, myself. Lucifer was begun on a whim, and continued only because so many people showed interest. Invictus has been my pet project for ages, now, and I truly do enjoy writing it, even if I occasionally get frustrated as heck...

**Sariel Aleithea**: School situation is...interesting. I've been extremely ill the last couple of weeks, and several times the past semester, so basically I'm spending an absurd amount of time stuck in bed. I have, however, made some good friends, which is always fun. Thanks for the concern!

**Electra Black**: Fantastic? People are being so nice to me...you love me! You really love me! ...and now we know why I should never, never have caffeine. And I do so like intriguing people. Is that how you spell intriguing? Too lazy to check... Ah vell.

**HecateDeMort**: Glad you like the quotes! Oh, and the story, of course. Grin.

**Dragonero**: I'm happy you enjoyed it!

**spacecatdet**: Thanks! So do I, actually...I only have the barest idea of where this is going, and most of it is just as much a surprise to me as it is to the readers.

**japanese-jew**: Ah, but I love the entire poem. Couldn't resist... And I figured I'd stick Bones in Hufflepuff because that's where Susan ended up, and family does seem to play a part in where a person is Sorted. Besides, Amelia really is very much like a badger, at least in my story- grumpy and tenacious.

**Talons**: Long black hair indeed, though not too long. Leather jacket/coat, yup!

**ISC**: Glad you like!

**RAINonSKY1022**: Hey, intrigue is one of those words I need a dictionary to spell, no matter how many times I've seen it/heard it, etc. I do hope this is interesting...

**M'cha Araem**: Funny? Funny? That's the most you can say? Not brilliant or beautiful or... All right, so I'm kidding. Funny is actually pretty good. Teeth-baring is good, and as for corruption...you got me to write an HGSS fic without even trying, so clearly I've been corrupted. I blame A Grand, Dramatic Gesture. Oooh, Lady Lioness...I shudder when I reread that one. Thank God I've matured a bit since then...in writing and in personality. And yeah, a lot of people do tend to make Albus seem way too hyper!cheery. I try (and do often fail, I'm afraid) to make all the characters as human as possible.

**DeathzBeauty**: So far, no one's disliked the quotes. I'm relieved- I was afraid they'd disrupt the flow.

**Comet Moon**: Thanks!

**butterfly**: I'm glad you like!

**Demonkitty2007**: Bad boy Harry is loverly indeed.

**Alynna Lis Eachann**: Soon enough for ya?

**Lord Serpent**: Thanks!

**Depressed Gothic Raven**: Update, update, update...all people want me to do is update! Do they ever ask me to win a million dollars in the lottery? No! ...er, sorry... Anyway, I'm glad you enjoyed the first couple installments.

**Night-Owl123**: Thanks!

**PbookR**: Here you go, darlin'.

**Mistress of Sadikus**: Thanks! Harry's such a fun character to write, though it's hard not to get completely OOC.

**Chaos-Empersonified**: Of course Harry won't just spill everything! How can I torture my loyal readers if I just tell you everything right off the bat?

**KittenRebecca**: A friend? Many friends, more like... Good job picking up on Chance; as for whether she trained him...just in one or two things. You'll learn more about her fairly soon. They didn't really imprison Harry, just held him there to question him...and wouldn't you want to keep him from going back into hiding? I am leaning heavily towards Harry/Ginny, but who knows...I might write a different slash version, as well. And in the likely event that it is HG, the romance will take second seat to the plot. I'm afraid I haven't a truly romantic bone in my body, so no need to worry about tooth-aching fluff.

**Serpent of Light**: Why does everyone like moody!and!sarcastic!Harry? I myself mostly like Harry as he is in the books, with only rare bits of sarcasm. Shrugs. Ah vell. Glad you like Dumbledore- I like to portray people as being human and fallible, as well as three-dimensional. And I didn't mean to malign all Hufflepuffs...in fact, most of them are probably sensible and pragmatic people. Thanks for the review!

**Zaxxon**: Glad you like it!

**uNople**: He and Snape will have an interesting time of it, I'm sure. Snape will, of course, be caught between his dislike for the Marauders and the very obvious differences between father and son, and if he's antagonistic towards Harry, then Harry'll be just as much of a bastard in return. They'll probably get on fairly well for the most part, though.

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_Review! Review! Review! Please? Review! Opalish gives everyone a pathetic begging look._


	4. Chapter Three: The Knockturn Alley Massa...

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Really, I don't. Why won't you believe me?

Right.

You know, I wasn't going to update this till Friday. I told myself very firmly that I would wait. But I clearly have no discipline. I'm sure none of you particularly mind. Grins.

Anywho, hope you all enjoy this, and many many thanks to **Nimbirosa **and **M'cha Araem**, who were kind enough to beta my story. They're both wonderful, beautiful, magnificent people, and I don't deserve them. Now go read their stuff.

FAQs can be found at my livejournal. There's a link on my profile page.

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**Chapter Three: The Knockturn Alley Massacre**

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_Question: Why does God allow evil in the world?_

_Sri Ramakrishna: To thicken the plot. _

_-Sri Ramakrishna_

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It was a relief to be alone, after the kind of day he'd been having. A relief, and something of a miracle. He'd had to argue with Dumbledore and Bones for nearly an entire hour before they agreed to let him go to Diagon Alley without a full retinue to shadow his every move.

In the end, they'd had to come to a compromise. Two aurors would be waiting for him in the Leaky Cauldron, to escort him to Hogwarts when he was done with his shopping. Harry wasn't particularly happy with the arrangement, but at least they wouldn't be following him around the entire day. There were some places he wanted to go that a pair of aurors most certainly would not allow.

Smiling thinly to himself, the young man sauntered into the Magical Menagerie, his disguise in place. It wasn't much of a disguise- just a kerchief over his scar- but it was enough to keep him from being recognized. After all, no one knew what he looked like, other than his scar.

That is, no one but those who had seen him in the Ministry earlier. But they weren't likely to be around, not during the work day, and they were even less likely to be looking for him in the crowded Alley. Especially not in the Magical Menagerie.

The pet shop was a crowded, stuffy place that reeked of molted feathers and wet dog. Only a few rays of light pierced the dirty windows, just enough to make visible the layer of dust over everything. The shop reverberated with the shrieks of birds, the hisses of snakes, the squeaks of rats and the snarls of cats and dogs. Harry felt enormously sorry for all the poor animals cooped up in a place like this. The Menagerie had been so much better before it changed ownership a year ago, it really had.

The current proprietor, situated behind the surprisingly clean front counter, was a plump, balding, red-faced man with a bulbous nose and small watery eyes. He held a lacy handkerchief in his chubby hand, and his stubby fingers were weighted with garish rings. His clothes were well-made and rich, but a size too small and badly in need of repair. Everything about the man disgusted Harry.

"Can I help you, sir?" Even the pig's voice was horrible, all oily and with a hint of a whine. If a voice could sweat, Harry thought, then this one would be perspiring like crazy.

"I'm just looking, for now," Harry said, lip curling as the man dabbed his shiny face with the handkerchief.

"Of course, of course. Just let me know if you need anything…if I might suggest the screech owls, they are particularly-"

"Thank you," Harry cut the man off curtly, the other's obsequious manner greatly annoying him. "But, as I said, I'm just looking."

He headed immediately towards the snakes, ignoring the sputtering shopkeeper. As he drew near the snake cages, the hissing gradually took shape as words.

Harry had long ago discovered that snakes were a great deal like humans, in some regards. Like humans, they each had their differences in personality and intelligence, and had their own wants and dreams.

Overall, though, they were very, very different from humans. They didn't have names, not really, unless 'The One Who Suns Himself Frequently' counts as a name. They were uninterested in abstract concepts, and had little patience for anything other than food, mating, and shelter. There were a few, though, who could think a little further…a few who understood things like home and family and loyalty and love. These few were generally snakes bred in captivity.

Harry supposed that, with enough time on their, ah, tails, they were able to stop thinking of survival and start thinking about living.

:Hello: he murmured, speaking too quietly for the fat man to hear him. His back was turned to the shopkeeper, so the other man wouldn't see Harry's lips moving. :Do any of you wish to leave with me:

With snakes, it was best to be straightforward. Funny, considering how serpents were stereotyped in both the muggle and magical worlds.

The snakes went silent, processing his query. None of them expressed any surprise at his ability to speak to them- snakes generally never seemed surprised. They didn't have enough imagination.

:Leave: a small emerald snake with pitch black eyes asked curiously. :Leave the Filthy Place:

Harry snorted softly. Yes, that was certainly a fitting name for the shop. :Yes. I would like for three of you to come with me.:

:I will go: the emerald snake said decisively.

:And I: a large reddish-brown snake added.

:One more, then.:

:Me.: This one was tan with black stripes, long and thin.

:Good: Harry approved, noting from the signs on the tanks that the emerald snake and the tan one were poisonous. :I will return for you in a short time.:

Harry would have to keep the brilliant emerald snake- it was too eye-catching, with its coloring, to go unnoticed. The other two, though, would suit his purposes nicely.

He sauntered to the front counter, where the shopkeeper was pretending to be absorbed in his newspaper. Harry rolled his eyes; the man had been watching him beadily throughout his entire conversation with the snakes. Probably afraid he'd try to steal something...although Harry couldn't really blame him for the sentiment, as normally the man's fears would have been justified. Harry had lived on the streets, after all, and he'd had to become an adept thief to survive. So yes, small (and valuable) objects tended to go missing when he was around.

But he figured that if he was going to start living as Harry Potter, rather than Ace- the name he normally used with everyone but those few he trusted enough to tell his identity- then he'd better start acting like a decent citizen, as much as the very idea appalled him.

"Yes?" the shopkeeper asked, eyes darting around the store, looking everywhere but at Harry himself.

"I've decided what I want."

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_I take a simple view of living. It is keep your eyes open and get on with it. _

_-Sir Laurence Olivier_

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Harry's next stop was Eeylops's Owl Emporium. He'd already taken care of the three snakes- the emerald one was curled around his shoulders, while the other two were off on their new assignments.

Chances were he wouldn't see those two again for many weeks, if ever. He just hoped they wouldn't get themselves killed. Actually, it was far more likely that they'd get distracted and forget all about their assignments and about him, which didn't really bother him. He wasn't really planning on his little scheme working, but he supposed it was worth a try.

All the owls in the Emporium put up a fuss at the emerald snake's presence, except for one- a lovely female snowy owl with amber eyes and a sharp, hooked beak.

"Getting on in age, that one," the woman in charge of the Emporium told Harry. "We all thought she'd sell in a jiffy, but then she got a bit contrary. Won't let anyone near her."

Harry, though, had no trouble getting near the owl. In fact, the snowy bird seemed to like him quite a bit. The shopkeeper just shook her head and snorted.

"Happens, sometimes, though it's fairly rare," she said. "Some magical animals are born bonded to a human. With most of them, the bond is weak enough to be ignored. But this one- this one was waiting for you, laddie."

He bought the owl, of course- she was beautiful enough that even Draco would approve- then sent her on to Hogwarts. She nipped lightly at his ear in an almost motherly gesture of concern, then took to wing.

Smiling to himself, Harry strolled away. Then, after checking briefly to make sure that both of his wands and his various knives were in place, he headed for Knockturn Alley.

Tonks and Shacklebolt were going to be furious. The thought made Harry grin.

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_If you're going to do something wrong, at least enjoy it. _

_-Leo C. Rosten_

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A bruised, bloodied, and grimly satisfied Harry Potter staggered into the Leaky Cauldron several hours later. His leather jacket was scuffed, his t-shirt torn, his jeans ripped and stained. His hair was a complete mess and his eyes were bruised and beginning to blacken. The bandana that had been hiding his scar was missing; fortunately, he was so dirty that his scar was completely hidden under the grime. The emerald snake, thankfully, was none the worse for wear, still twined lazily about his shoulders.

Well, the snake had certainly earned a bit of laziness. It was a vicious little thing, and even if its poison wasn't fatal, its venom had certainly helped Harry out.

"Merlin," Tonks breathed in horrified wonder, staring at him, "what on earth happened to you?" Her hair was an alarming shade of green, which clashed terribly with her purple eyes.

Harry grinned. "Just got into a bit of an argument," he said, his blood still singing in his veins. A good fight always made him feel better after a bad day.

Shacklebolt, the tall auror with the earring, shook his head in exasperation before changing the subject. "New pet?" he asked, looking at Harry's newly purchased snake.

"Yeah," Harry replied, a bit put off by Kingsley's composure. Most of his admittedly irrational irritation faded, however, as he considered his new scaled friend.

The snake was called 'Color-Of-Fresh-Grass', or something to that effect. Harry settled for calling him Green.

Emerald was too girly, really.

Green was one of the smartest snakes he'd ever come across. He didn't have much in the way of imagination, but then, not many snakes did.

"Snakes aren't very popular these days," Shacklebolt commented in his slow, ponderous way. Harry wasn't stupid enough to think this made the black auror an idiot. No, Shacklebolt's dark eyes practically gleamed with keen intelligence.

Besides, it was never smart to underestimate an auror. Only the best were accepted into training, and only the best of the best made it through. Though that begged the question of how someone as clumsy as Tonks had ever survived...

"I guess they aren't," Harry replied quietly to Shacklebolt's observation, his adrenaline rush beginning to subside, leaving him drained and weary. "But I've never had much respect for mindless prejudice."

There was a tense, expectant silence. The other people currently inhabiting the Leaky Cauldron began to edge away- even if they couldn't hear exactly what was being said, they could feel how charged the atmosphere was getting. Harry might have spent the last hour or so brawling, but he was generally always spoiling for a fight, even when he hadn't a chance of winning. It was his way of working off his worries and fears. Chance had once called it 'therapeutic aggression'.

"Ready to go, then?" Tonks asked a little too cheerfully, trying to forestall an argument. Harry rolled his eyes, while Shacklebolt shot his comrade an amused look. The Cauldron's patrons relaxed, sensing that the tense moment had passed.

"Fine, let's go," Harry sighed. "We're using the Floo, I suppose?"

Tonks nodded. Harry groaned.

He really, really hated the Floo. He always fell and landed on his arse, and he had a feeling Tonks wouldn't let him live it down if he went tumbling out of the fireplace while she was watching - even if she was about as graceful as a duck, herself.

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_On the way back, they sang a number of tuneful and reflective songs on the subjects of peace, justice, morality, culture, sport, family life, and the obliteration of all other life forms. _

_-Douglas Adams_

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Though it was only the middle of August, Hogwarts was not completely empty. Almost all of the professors were in residence- most of them lived at the school year round, and in the recent times of trouble, they rarely left for any reason. So the staff room was full when Albus arrived for dinner.

"Where have you been?" Minerva testily demanded the moment he stepped into the room. The rest of the professors fell silent, waiting to hear his answer. "You didn't tell me you'd be leaving."

"There was an emergency," Albus replied serenely. "I was unexpectedly called away."

Minerva went a bit pale. "No one…was anyone-"

"Not that sort of emergency, thank Merlin," Albus quickly reassured her. "No, today I received the best news imaginable."

"Well?" Filius squeaked impatiently, while the rest stared at him, mystified. Well, Severus didn't look at all confused, but Albus could see the dark-haired man's impatience and curiosity. The Potions Master didn't hide his emotions nearly as well as he thought he did. At least, not from Albus.

"Harry Potter has been found," he informed them.

For a moment, the chamber was completely and utterly silent. And then it burst into noise, as everyone clamored for more information. Only Severus remained quiet, his eyes narrowed and lips twisted into a scowl.

Albus smiled benignly. The surly man was in for quite a surprise, if he was expecting a miniature James.

The entire world was in for a surprise, he imagined.

"How?" Rolanda Hooch demanded, somehow making herself heard above the others.

"He was sighted in Muggle London," Albus informed them. "An auror accosted him and brought him to the Ministry."

"Where is he now?" Minerva asked, her eyes brighter than he remembered seeing them in years. She always was inordinately fond of James and Lily.

"Right here," a familiar voice drawled from the doorway.

All eyes immediately focused on the new speaker.

Albus' rather bushy eyebrows rose as he studied the boy and his guards. They stood just inside the door, and had obviously only just arrived.

Minerva gasped. Pomona murmured something along the lines of 'oh, the poor dear'. Filius squeaked. Severus arched an eyebrow.

"You should see the other guys," Harry said, smirking.

"What happened?" Albus asked with a disapproving frown. He'd known that letting Harry go off on his own was a bad idea… The boy looked as if he'd been trampled by a herd of raging hippogriffs!

"Got into a fight," Harry said nonchalantly, shrugging. Albus blinked, noticing the snake coiled about the boy's shoulders for the first time. "It's amazing, the kind of thugs you find in Knockturn Alley."

Nymphadora choked on thin air. Kingsley went very still, his eyes narrowing.

"Knockturn Alley?" Albus queried, deceptively mildly. "And what exactly were you doing there?"

"This and that," Harry said casually, though his eyes were guarded and his stance wary. "Nothing you need to be worried about."

"I disagree," Albus replied, just as mildly as before. Inwardly, he trembled with anger and distressed concern.

The boy rolled his eyes. "And I really don't care." Albus almost flinched at the rather nasty tone Harry employed. "What I do, where I go, is my business," the youth continued ruthlessly. "And you need me a hell of a lot more than I need you."

There was a gleam in the lad's eyes that made Albus stop and think, before reacting.

Harry was testing him, or trying to prove a point. But what point?

Well, Albus supposed that much was fairly obvious. The point was, quite simply, that Harry was already an adult, or at least no longer a child, and that he didn't need or want a parent. The point was that he could do as he wished, and that nothing Albus said or did would make a difference.

Albus was beginning to wonder if the Sorting Hat would be able to choose between Gryffindor and Slytherin when it Sorted Harry.

"I would advise," the Headmaster said carefully, "that you be careful in such places. Like it or not, you are needed." He knew he sounded cold, enough so to shock his colleagues, but Harry smiled thinly at the warning, looking almost grateful. No, this young man certainly wasn't one to be coddled.

"I'm always careful," Harry replied, eyes hooded, hands in his pockets. "And I never take unnecessary risks." He paused, then shrugged again. "All right, so I _mostly _don't take unnecessary risks."

Albus sighed but nodded, still worried but willing, for now, to concede the argument. Harry had survived on his own since he was just six years old, after all, and knew better than anyone what his limits were and what he could risk.

"Perhaps. Nymphadora, Kingsley, you may go. Give Amelia my regards, and tell her I'll be by in two days for our meeting." No doubt Amelia would spend the entire meeting asking about Harry and smirking whenever Albus mentioned the boy's willfullness...really, as severe as she was, Amelia did have a Hufflepuff's love of gossip.

Kingsley nodded impassively. Nymphadora glanced nervously between himself and his new charge, as if waiting for one of them to start frothing at the mouth and throwing Unforgivables about.

"Er, right," she stuttered out. "See you around, then, Harry. Headmaster."

"Sounds good," Harry said, grinning wickedly. "And let me know how Fudge likes the two Death Munchers I dumped in his office, will you?"

Kingsley sucked in a startled breath. Nymphadora's jaw dropped. Albus closed his eyes in weary exasperation.

"Death Eaters, Harry?" Albus managed to ask after regaining his composure.

"They were harassing a friend of mind," the young man replied, scowling defiantly. "I warned them; they disregarded that warning."

"Do you know who-"

"Avery and Jugson," Harry cut him off, sounding quite self-satisfied. "There was a third one, but he got away. I didn't have time to hunt him down, but a few, ah, friends of mine volunteered. It was Macnair, I think."

"These friends," Nymphadora asked slowly, "are they, ah…"

Harry was clearly amused by the young woman's hesitation. "They're not exactly the kind of people you'd take home to see Mum, no," he drawled.

"At the moment, neither are you," Nymphadora pointed out, looking his bloody, dirty form over.

Harry snorted. "My disappointment knows no bounds."

Albus spared a look at his faculty. All of them, even Severus, looked shocked. No, this certainly wasn't the Harry Potter they'd have expected.

"We really must go," Kingsley spoke up. "Harry." The dark auror nodded to the boy, expression inscrutable.

"Shacklebolt," Harry replied. Albus was pleased to detect a note of respect for the auror in his new ward's voice.

After the two aurors were gone, Harry turned his attention to his astonished audience.

Albus quickly took charge. "Ah, Harry, this is the faculty of Hogwarts. Deputy Headmistress McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, Professor Sprout, Madame Hooch, and-"

"You're Severus Snape," Harry finished for Albus, sounding startled and, to the Headmaster's bemusement, impressed.

"I am," Severus said coolly, sneering at Harry. Albus knew his Potions Master well enough to detect the man's surprise and confusion at being identified, though he doubted anyone else would suspect there was anything out of the ordinary in the younger man's expression.

"One of my friends told me about you," Harry said, smiling slyly. "Chance Cassidy."

Albus' eyebrows rose. Chance had graduated from Hogwarts nine or ten years before. She'd been a Slytherin, and one of Severus' favorites; she certainly wasn't the sort of person he'd expect to befriend Harry Potter, of all people.

"You know Miss Cassidy?" Severus demanded, eyes narrowed.

"That _is _what I just said. I've done a few odd jobs for her- she runs an Inn, you know, in Vertic Alley. She lets me stay there, sometimes, if I can't find anywhere else to sleep."

"…anywhere else to sleep?" Pomona sounded horrified. Albus felt much the same.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Oh yes, I'm a moody bastard because my life's been all sunshine and daisies." Albus winced- there was enough bitterness in the boy's voice to impress even Severus.

"Look," Harry said, irritated, "is there somewhere I can take a bath? I may be homeless, but I'm not particularly fond of wearing blood."

"You aren't homeless anymore. Hogwarts is your home, now," Albus said. Harry looked about ready to be ill at the sentiment.

"Lovely," the youth said dryly. "And I'm sure we'll all turn out to be one big happy family, too." Severus snorted.

Albus sighed, torn between sorrow and amusement. "I'll take you to your rooms. Get some rest; you have much to do tomorrow."

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**Now for responses to individual reviews. As I've received over 60 reviews (cue happy dance) I'm afraid I won't be able to answer each and every one. Sorry. Forgive me?**

**egret**: Dumbledore and Harry will be at odds quite often, but they'll also respect each other and like each other.

**Allison**: I do so love sarcasm. It may be the lowest form of wit, as they say, but it's better than being completely witless, right? The POV flip thing is just a quirk of mine...I don't think I can write a chapter fic without going from POV to POV. I just find all the characters too fascinating to stick with one. As for pairings...I've never really preferred slash or het. I like 'em both equally, though I do have a special fondness for two main pairings: HarryGinny and HarrySeverus. I have, however, been known to write several other pairings, such as HarryRemus, HarryBill, HarrySirius, and so on. There just aren't enough strong female characters in HP that I can stand to pair Harry with.

**StaringStars**: I suppose I'm at a point where the more I write, the better I get. You should see the crap I churned out a couple of years ago...I shudder now when I read that stuff.

**Larna Mandrea** (aka My New Best Friend): Wow. Never, ever apologize for flooding me with reviews. I'm a greedy, easily flattered review-hog. And yes, isn't Moody!Harry wonderful? I was grinning through most of Book Five, when I wasn't crying my eyes out over Certain Happenings. The funny thing is, I cry when I'm really angry, not when I'm sad, so I was mostly bawling during Umbridge and Snape scenes. I only sniffled a bit when Sirius died; I cried when Dumbledore said that he'd known about the Dursleys and their treatment of Harry. I'm strange. Anyway, thanks for the many reviews, and let me just say, flattery will get you EVERYWHERE.

**Surarrin**: Manipulate-me-and-die? Nah, Harry's not going to be excessively violent or wrathful in this fic. If someone tries to manipulate him, then chances are he'll just tell them to eff off, or manipulate them right back.

**M'cha Araem**: I'm a bit surprised, really- lots of folks have been saying my characterization is pretty good. I thought Harry, at least, was really pretty OOC. Then again, I suppose I have to remember this Harry has led a completely different life from Canon Harry. Ah well...

**Eaiva le Fay**: Hey, questions are good. Sometimes reviewers ask something that really gets me to thinking, which then, of course, makes me run to the computer and start writing away like mad.

**LadySerpentina**: I'm really glad so many people seem to think my Harry isn't overly OOC. And I'm glad this story isn't wildly unbelievable. Grin.

**Akuma-sama**: Squeals! The Snake Who Lived is one of the first fanfics I ever read, and now you're reviewing me! Happy dance! Wow, I gotta cut down on my sugar intake- three exclamations in a row. Anywho: I really want Harry to be, at least as far as natural abilities go, much like the Harry in canon. He isn't super powerful or super smart; if he does have an excess of knowledge in certain areas, then it's due to necessity and long, hard training. I'll tell you this: Harry and Hermione will NOT get along, at least not for a long while.

**Quillian**: Ooh, I just read Reap What You Sow. Very nifty. I'd review but my stupid computer is being a moron. Grarr. Anywho, no prob with the Bones thing- I went and reread the chapter, and I did note that she does come across as being a bit prejudiced. Whoops.

**KittenRebecca**: Harry does have many Slytherin traits, yes, but keep in mind that, at least for the first few chapters, he's on the defensive. He's a bit afraid, even if he won't admit it, and everything in his life is spinning out of control. Naturally, he's going to be a bit of a bastard.

**xyvortex**: A very good point, and something I actually did consider. Quite simply, the pro's of telling outweighed the con's. As they say, give a little, get a little- Harry made a concession in hopes that it would make him seem more trustworthy to Fudge, and so that Fudge would be less reluctant to give in to his demands. Besides, Harry's animagus form would be too noticeable to pass of as a regular animal, as it is an animal NOT native to Britain. Neither is it inconspicuous enough to be useful as a spy, nor large or deadly enough to aid in a fight.

**uten**: Harry may end up in Slytherin, or he might be in Gryffindor. I ain't telling. Azkaban has always had a profound effect on Sirius, even in the books, but he'll still be rather too immature to take care of a teen, especially one like Harry. As for the teachers...well, you might be surprised by who Harry gets along with.

**Inzilbeth**: Ooh, the wands. Grins...that'll come up sooner or later. For now, let me just say that NEITHER of the wands was made by Ollivander. Which means that neither of the wands is Voldemort's wand's brother. Ergh, that sounds awkward. Oh well.

**Josephine J. Turpin**: Hey, I have an accent all of my own. It's like I cut all the vowels out of my words. Rather than say Mom, for instance, I say M'm. Very weird. Shrugs.

**uNople**: Dumbledore isn't so much out of his league as he is afraid of alienating the wizarding world's only hope. People might not think it, after reading Invictus (or my one-shot And Beggars Will Ride) but I really do like Dumbledore. In fact, I like all the HP characters except, possibly, the Dursleys.

**Meggplant**: No worries about Ron and Harry immediately becoming buddies. They won't much like each other. Snicker- oh, he'll do more than just get into the Restricted Section. And Harry might stop being so reserved, but the moment he realizes he's going soft, he'll go out of his way to remedy that terrible tragedy.

**Depressed Gothic Raven**: Two million dollars? Gee, that'd be great. Sigh...no matter. I'll just have to marry some really rich dude, then have him killed so I can keep all the money. ...or not.

**Tina**: There'll be romance, but it won't be a large part of the story. In fact, I'll probably downplay it as much as I can, mostly because I'm crap at relationships in reality and in fiction.

**E.A.V**: Er...bored to tears, is actually probably the most accurate. Grins.

**Nimbirosa**: Remind me to never again complain to you about a lack of reviews. The Review Responses alone are killing me. And yet, I get a lovely warm feeling whenever someone sends in a review... Ah well. No one said I had to make sense. And hey, no need to call me stupid.

Thanks also to: **scott, raven-warrior05, xiann, Hellfire Ashwolf, Munching Munchkin Managem, Black-Rose1243, hpz26, elvengoddess696, Shadowed Rains, Talons, RAINonSKY1022, Iori O.o, Skuld's Sentaro3, yuiop, atalante, GwEnDoLyN P. MaLfOy, Eve27, missfictionlover, lady patronus, manicreversed, locic, AJaKe, but I never did, methoslover, Shadowface, Lady11Occult, Flying with the pixies, Dahlias, jbcna, pinksakuya, nonjon, japanese-jew, Mary, korrd, ShadowGhost69, Enarra, Goddess of Muffins, Chaos-Empersonified, Night-Owl123, Lachwen, LoonyLoopyLisa, Fate, and HecateDeMort.**

Sorry if I missed anyone!

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Review! REVIEW! Review!


	5. Chapter Four: Enter Chance, Stage Left

Disclaimer: I own nothing except the clothes on my back and the hair on my head, and just possibly the toes on my feet. Oh, and my laptop.

Many thanks to **M'cha Araem** and **Nimbirosa**, my fantabulous betas. Give 'em a round of applause, folks, 'cause without them this fic would either be crap(pier) or abandoned. Oh, and go read their fics- M'cha's HGSS fics were enough to semi-convert me to the ship, and Nim's HPGW fics are likewise wonderful.

UPDATE INFO: I'm going to try to update every ten days or so, but it's not set in stone. It all depends on how quickly I can get the chapters written- I won't be posting a chapter unless I've still got five more chapters ready and in reserve. Sorry if that annoys you, but hey. Can't please everybody, I suppose (as evidenced by the 'no, no, dear God, don't make Draco a decent person' reviews I've gotten. Of course, I do love Prat!Draco, so I can't blame 'em).

FAQs are at my livejournal, which is listed as my homepage on my profile.

**_IMPORTANT, SO PLEASE, PLEASE READ:_** **I need you to help me out with something. I want you, my beloved readers, to send me- either by email or in a review- the corniest, most terrible, cringe-worthy pick-up lines you can think of. As in, the types of pick-up lines that drunken men think make them seem suave and cute, but really just make them look like, well drunkards. Please- this is vital to Invictus' future. Sort of.**

One last thing: Please let me know of any C2 groups hosting my fic. It boosts my ego, and that's never a bad thing. Grins.

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Chapter Four: Enter Chance, Stage Left

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_No matter what a man's past may have been, his future is spotless. _

_-John R. Rice_

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Minerva, Pomona, and the others restrained themselves long enough for Albus and the boy to leave before bursting into speculative chatter. Severus, sneering at their insipid twittering, stalked out of the room and back to his chambers. He would have expected Minerva, at least, to have some sense of decorum...but evidently she was just as vapid as the rest when it came to the Boy-Who-Lived.

Potter…well, suffice it to say the boy wasn't much like his father. Nor was he the Golden Boy Severus would have imagined him to be, if he'd ever wasted his time thinking about the brat.

Once safely inside his rooms, which weren't nearly as dour as most would suppose, he firecalled Chance Cassidy at the Lock and Lantern Inn in Vertic Alley.

Looking harried and stressed, her apron covered with food stains and her hands dripping with what appeared to be wine, the young woman greeted him with a surprised and wary, "Professor Snape. What can I do for you?"

Severus' eyes narrowed. "Harry Potter," he said succinctly, watching carefully for any telling reactions. She blinked, but managed to stay relatively composed. Severus approved - Chance always had been a good Slytherin, able to keep her emotions expertly hidden.

"What about Harry Potter?" she asked calmly.

"I met him about a half hour ago," Severus informed his former student. "He mentioned you." She paled dramatically.

"He - is he -"

"He is fine. Here at Hogwarts, in fact."

Chance's jaw tightened. "I'm a neutral in this war, Professor. Don't expect me to tell you anything about Harry just so you can report it to your master."

"You're fond of the boy," Severus observed, ignoring her last statement. Chance merely glared, her lips thin and her gray eyes flashing. "The Dark Lord will not be pleased."

"Like I said," Chance snapped, "I'm a neutral."

Severus relaxed very slightly. "You would do well not to tell anyone about your dealings with the Potter brat," he warned her. "Pretend ignorance, and you will live a significantly longer life."

Chance looked briefly surprised but soon regained control of her expression. "I'm hardly a fool, Professor," she said quietly. "I've known him for several years, now, and you're the first person I've ever spoken with about him." Severus nodded.

Then Chance's eyes hardened, and she suddenly looked very threatening indeed. "And I swear, Snape," she said quietly, for the first time in his memory sounding less than respectful towards him, "that I will kill you myself if you hurt him."

Severus' thin eyebrows arched. "Potter didn't mention that you were close. He only said he did a 'few jobs' for you."

The young woman snorted, a hint of amusement in her expression. "Figures." Severus frowned ominously when she didn't elaborate, but his displeasure didn't seem to affect his former student at all.

"Look," she said, "I need to go; the Inn's set to open in less than a half hour. And I suggest that you remember my warning - and there are others, far more dangerous than me, who'll do worse than kill you if you harm Harry."

With that, she turned on her heel and strode away, pausing only to grab a ragged gray dishcloth with which to wipe her hands.

Severus slowly withdrew his head from the fireplace, lost in thought. Well, he mused, that was decidedly odd.

He remembered Chance fairly well from her Hogwarts days. She'd had an unusually large number of friends for a Slytherin, yes, but he'd never seen her as fiercely protective of anyone as she was of Potter.

And her declaration of neutrality was truly astounding. Not many Slytherins had the courage to refuse the Dark Lord, and becoming a neutral was nearly as bad as joining with Dumbledore, at least in the Dark Lord's crimson eyes. Telling him, a known Death Eater (at least, known to most Slytherins past and present), that she was neutral…that was dangerous business. Not to mention foolish.

Albus would be pleased as pumpkin juice. He always was, whenever he heard a Slytherin had turned to the Light. Chance wasn't exactly on their side yet, but in this war, at least, neutrality was only a step away.

Especially if she cared for Potter even half as much as she seemed to.

And to think, Severus reflected with a sneer, that she had been refused the Head Girl position because she was, according to certain faculty members, 'halfway to becoming a dark witch already'.

Hah. Just let them doubt his judgment again… He'd have no qualms about rubbing this in their sanctimonious faces.

Moving to make himself some tea, Severus allowed his thoughts to turn to the Potter spawn himself, and to Albus.

_Like it or not, you are needed._

Albus never sounded so detached or cold, especially not to a student. And most especially not to someone he cared for, and it was plain to see that Albus did care for Potter, even if they'd only known each other for a few hours.

And yet Albus had said those words and Potter had looked oddly…satisfied, in response. Add to that the boy's challenging behavior, clearly meant to test the Headmaster…the mercurial mood swings…

Well, Severus didn't know what to make of Harry Potter, and that grated on his nerves. He detested ignorance in others and in himself. He didn't like being in the dark about anything, and most certainly not because of James Potter's blasted good-for-nothing offspring.

But Harry Potter clearly wasn't much like his father. Or his mother, for that matter, though he suspected there was more of Lily Evans than James Potter in the brat.

While Severus had disliked the Mudblood Evans on principle, he had respected her far more than he had Potter and his lackeys. And considering he was a pureblood Slytherin, that was certainly saying something about Potter's respectability - or lack thereof.

Bah. Gryffindors...it was enough to drive a man to drink.

Thus far, however, Potter didn't seem much of a Gryffindor at all. In fact, he was acting in a decidedly Slytherin manner, only with more boldness and less artifice than most of Severus' house would dare.

And if Chance was fond of him… So many questions, and so few answers.

Potter was an unknown quantity, and Severus intended on rectifying that as soon as possible.

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_When confronted by a difficult problem, you can solve it more easily by reducing it to the question, "How would the Lone Ranger have handled this?" _

_-Brady's First Law of Problem Solving _

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Chance stared down at her now-dry hands for a few seconds after her rather odd conversation with her former Professor.

So Harry was at Hogwarts. For a moment, all she could feel was a wicked amusement at the faculty's expense - Harry certainly wouldn't be what any of them expected. At least, not at first, but she had no doubt they'd eventually see past the admittedly crusty exterior and realize that Harry was just the hero they were looking for.

Chance knew Harry very well. He was the closest thing to a brother she had, as well as Shay's godfather, and she was an expert at reading him. He could insist all he wanted that he was no hero, that he didn't care about family or honor or any of that, but she knew better.

Harry craved acceptance and love, even if he denied it, and he was, despite his rough ways, an honorable man. He would never hurt someone who couldn't fight back, and he would never harm someone who hadn't done something to him first. He always repaid his debts, and he didn't lie - at least, not about the important things.

And yes, so maybe he did cheat and steal when he thought he could get away with it, but no one was perfect, right?

As for being a hero…well, Harry truly _cared_ about people. He could fool himself into thinking he was a cold bastard, but his actions showed otherwise.

All in all, though he had a decidedly Slytherin mindset, Harry was a Gryffindor at heart. And Chance knew in her very bones that he would one day be great.

Sighing, she ran a hand through her short-cropped hair, wondering what she ought to do. Harry could take care of himself, but he didn't know about Snape being a Death Eater, so he wouldn't know he had to be on guard. Even the Boy-Who-Lived could be taken by surprise.

Her lips pursing at the grim thought, Chance threw down the rag she'd used to dry her hands and called, "Bongo!"

A house elf popped into the kitchen, looking a bit apprehensive. "Yes, Mistress Cassidy?" it squeaked. Filthy little creature...Chance would never understand why Harry liked them so much.

"Is Shay still sleeping?" she demanded, hands on her hips. Shay was her six-month old son, the result of a drunken night on the town.

"Yes, Mistress," Bongo agreed, nodding enthusiastically.

"Good," she said. "I'll be gone for a few hours, so watch over him carefully. If you have any problems, pop on over to old Mrs. Gregor's shop and ask her to come. Understood?"

"Bongo is understanding," the house elf said with a bow.

Satisfied, Chance grabbed her cloak off the peg near the doorway and wrapped it securely around herself. She stalked through the empty main room and out the door, pausing only to lock the door and scrawl 'Closed' in golden letters over the mantle. No doubt her customers would be angry, but she was more than adequately equipped to deal with a few disappointed alcoholics.

Soon enough, she was out of Vertic Alley and into Knockturn. Her stride lengthened and she gripped her wand tightly under her cloak. She doubted anyone would bother to attack her, as frankly, she wasn't important, but it didn't hurt to be on guard.

She paused and took a deep breath when she was outside of her first stop, a run-down place called Bloody Mary's. BM's was, fittingly, a bar for vampires. A human would have to be insane to go in there, especially when alone.

Chance certainly wasn't insane. She was Harry's friend, which meant that she was safe from pretty much all the vamps inside. He'd never told her how he'd done it, but several years ago Harry somehow managed to make friends with some very influential creatures of the night, and had long ago convinced them not to harm anyone he cared about.

Steeling herself - she was, after all, worried about the few vamps who _weren't _friends of Harry's - she straightened up proudly and strode inside, her grip on her wand tightening even more in apprehension.

The bar was half full, but almost completely silent. Vampires weren't particularly social creatures; how Harry had come to befriend so many of them, Chance doubted she would ever know. She wasn't sure she _wanted_ to know.

"And what's this? A human?" a vampire in the back of the bar murmured, standing and grinning toothily. Chance took a half step backwards, ready to flee if things got out of hand.

"Sit down, Rolf," another vampire, this one closer to Chance, ordered. "She's off-limits." 'Rolf' hesitated, but did as he was told.

Chance relaxed a little, though she was still ready to flee at the first sign of trouble. She knew vaguely that vampires had a hierarchy of sorts, topped by the king; lower vampires were required to obey the more important ones. It seemed Rolf was fairly low down on the ladder.

"What brings you here?" a third vampire asked quietly. Chance, noting his rather handsome, if gaunt, features and almost hypnotizing gaze, took a moment to regain her composure.

"Harry's been found out."

The reaction was instantaneous. The first vampire, Rolf, merely blinked. A few vampires hissed; one clenched his drink so tightly in his hand that the glass shattered; two stood, as if to attack. The handsome vampire gazed around commandingly and the others settled down, though they still looked tense.

"Continue," the handsome vampire, who seemed to be in charge, ordered. He seemed remarkably calm, given the reactions of his fellows.

Deciding that now definitely wasn't the time to start dabbling in vampire psychology, Chance got on with her self-appointed task. "I just got a firecall from Severus Snape - do you know who he -"

"We know," the boss vamp, as she decided to refer to him, said shortly.

Chance was a bit startled - maybe those ridiculous rumors that Snape was a vampire were actually true - but shrugged and went on. "Harry's at Hogwarts. He's going to be in danger - if not from Professor Snape, then from outside attacks. I thought you ought to know."

The boss vamp hummed thoughtfully under his breath, his blue gaze pensive. "I see. My thanks; you may leave."

A bit irritated at the abrupt dismissal but not willing to risk offending a group of creatures who could pulverize her without an ounce of effort, Chance nodded and left. She breathed a deep sigh of relief once she was out of the bar, her heart finally slowing down its anxious beat.

On to her next stop. This one, at least, was only _moderately _dangerous.

She really did have to have a little talk with Harry about his choice of friends. Vampires indeed!

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_Nunquam lamiae morde me dice. - Never say 'bite me' to a vampire. _

_-Anonymous_

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"Well? What are we going to do?"

Leander, the handsome vampire that Chance had deduced was in charge, frowned in contemplation. "Sondra and Vic are out hunting down Macnair," he said slowly. "Normally I would send them to watch over Hogwarts…but they will not be able to focus on their task if they haven't found their prey."

"Who is this Harry, anyway?" Rolf demanded, scowling.

"Silence," Leander ordered curtly. Rolf subsided, though his scowl remained. The other vampire really was becoming an annoyance.

Finally, Leander came to a decision. "Jareth, Akhaia," he said, "you will return to the City and inform my father of Harry's discovery. Thom, you will accompany me to the Forbidden Forest tonight. The rest of you, spread the word - Harry is to be protected at all costs. Any threats are to be eliminated."

"Snape?" Jareth asked curiously. It was well known among the darker residents of the magical world that Snape was a Death Eater. Most dark wizards didn't receive so much attention, but Snape was also the best Potions Master in Europe, and possibly in the entire world.

Leander, however, knew even more about Snape - for instance, he knew that the Hogwarts Professor was quite possibly a spy for Albus Dumbledore. In which case, it could be entirely detrimental to Harry's cause if the man were killed.

"He is to be left alone," he said decisively. "Do you understand?"

There was a soft murmur of assent, and then the bar slowly emptied. Leander smiled coldly and turned to a sullen Rolf.

"You have forgotten your place. It is time you be reminded."

Rolf suddenly looked very, very frightened.

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_Committee- a group of people who individually can do nothing but as a group decide that nothing can be done. _

_-Fred Allen_

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Albus watched silently as the Great Hall began to fill with Order members. Harry was off, tucked away in his room, and those members of the faculty who weren't part of the Order were likewise absent.

The Hall itself was much changed from its usual state. There was only one table, now, a very large, round one that took up half the space in the enormous chamber. The ceiling had been charmed to show a detailed map of England rather than the night sky; suspected Death Eater homes and hideouts were marked red, while places recently attacked by Voldemort and his followers were marked green.

He waited patiently for everyone to take their seats and stop their chattering. They did so with unusual alacrity, and Albus supposed that Nymphadora or Kingsley (or possibly one of the faculty) had mentioned Harry's recovery.

His theory was proven correct when, a bare few seconds after everyone was seated, Sirius Black demanded, "Where is he?"

The former Marauder was leaning forward in his seat, his hands clutching desperately at the edge of the table. His still gaunt, hollow-looking face was filled with a heartbreaking urgency, and his blue eyes blazed with eagerness. Remus rested a hand on his friend's shoulder, but the contact did nothing to calm the animagus.

"In his room, sleeping," Albus said. "He has had a difficult day."

Sirius began to stand, but Remus' hand and Albus' quelling stare stalled him. "He needs to rest, Sirius," Albus said sternly. "You may meet with him tomorrow; in fact, I wish all of you to meet him then."

"Tomorrow!" Sirius protested loudly, while the other Order members murmured excitedly amongst themselves, looking forward to meeting their prodigal hero.

"Just one day, Padfoot," Remus said quickly, heading off an explosion from his best friend. Sirius settled down a bit, though with a scowl on his once handsome face. Albus observed with a slight sense of relief that Sirius actually was filling out a bit and that his features were beginning to look less wasted.

"What's he like?" Bill Weasley asked curiously. His mother shushed him, but the curse-breaker only rolled his eyes in response. Ah yes, Molly, who so often saw her children as helpless infants.

"He is…" Albus trailed off, wondering exactly how to describe his new ward. "He is a most unusual boy. You'll understand when you meet him, I dare say."

Sirius snorted and muttered something about vagueness. Remus elbowed him in warning.

"Where was he?" the werewolf asked politely, as if he hadn't just been sharply, if silently, reprimanding his best friend.

Albus sighed, something he seemed to be doing quite a bit of throughout the past day. "It appears that after he ran away from his relatives - yes, he assures me he left of his own choice - he lived on the streets. How he came to know about magic, I haven't yet discovered; Harry isn't very forthcoming. Neither do I know how he managed to survive on the streets at a mere six years of age."

"Oh, the poor boy," Molly Weasley murmured, positively horrified.

"Poor boy indeed," Nymphadora snorted. Kingsley looked less amused. The dark-skinned auror likely had a better idea of what happened to little children on the streets than Nymphadora who, for all her status as an auror, really was a bit naïve. "He had Madam Bones in a right state, especially after all that Knockturn nonsense."

"'Knockturn nonsense?'" someone repeated curiously. Nymphadora grimaced and explained.

"He went into Knockturn Alley and got into a fight with two Death Eaters - Avery and Jugson, just like he said. He captured them both and sent them to Fudge's office - we aren't sure how, and Fudge was out at the time, so he hasn't a clue, either. Not that he ever does, mind you."

A few people chuckled, but most were stunned into silence by the knowledge that Harry Potter, a living, breathing Harry Potter, had single-handedly defeated two of Voldemort's top Death Eaters. And the boy was only sixteen!

"There is more, Headmaster," Severus interrupted, casting a dark glare at Sirius and Remus when they perked up in interest. "I firecalled Miss Cassidy, and she admitted to having dealt with Potter on several occasions. In fact, she claimed that she has known him for several years, and then threatened to harm me should I hurt the boy. She also said that Potter has other friends who will be guarding him."

"Cassidy?" Moody demanded suspiciously, his magical eye rolling in its socket. "Chance Cassidy? She's a suspected Dark sympathizer."

"She informed me she is neutral," Snape retorted, sneering at the retired auror.

Albus' eyebrows rose in surprise, and several other Order members seemed likewise taken aback. Neutrality was as good as going Light, as far as Voldemort was concerned. And as far as Cassidy knew, Severus was one of Voldemort's most loyal followers.

While a part of him wondered if Cassidy could possibly be recruited, Albus retold the events of that day, including Harry's response to the Prophecy (of which only Sirius knew the full contents) and his behavior towards Fudge.

Sirius, at least, seemed pleased.

"Spoken like a true Marauder," the ex-convict boasted proudly when Albus told of Harry's blackmailing the Minister.

Severus snorted. "Like a Slytherin, you mean," he corrected silkily. Albus suppressed the uncharacteristic urge to roll his eyes as he wondered, not for the first time, if either Sirius or Severus had ever been hit by a permanent Testosteronis charm.

"Shut up, Snape."

"Oh, very original, Black."

"You slimy...!"

The meeting, as Order meetings so often did when those two were involved, degenerated from there.

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_"Did I do anything wrong today, or has the world always been like this and I've been too wrapped up in myself to notice?" _

_–Douglas Adams_

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Harry wasn't particularly surprised when, at around midnight, a vampire slipped into his room through his window. He probably shouldn't have left it open, but he'd let Hedwig out to hunt earlier and wanted her to be able to get back in if she returned before morning.

By moonlight, he was easily able to identify his visitor.

Harry sat up calmly on his bed, his sheets bunched around his calves. He was bare-chested, but wore boxers - he wasn't too keen on the idea of Dumbledore entering the room to find him naked. It would be like flashing his grandfather, if he even had a grandfather still living - which he doubted.

"Leander," he greeted the so-called dark creature.

"Harry," Leander replied with a leer, blatantly checking the young man out. Harry rolled his eyes. Why on earth did vampires have to be bisexual?

"Why are you here?" Harry demanded in his best no-nonsense voice, an eyebrow raised in inquiry. He leaned back on his elbows, smirking at Leander's resulting moment of distraction. It wasn't often he got one over the vampire.

"Young Miss Cassidy came to Bloody Mary's today. She was concerned for you. And with reason - I must say, you look like you've been in a fist fight with a giant."

Harry's eyes widened and he sat straight back up, any thoughts of teasing the vampire further immediately erased by his old friend's news. "Chance went _where_? Is she bloody insane! She could have been killed! Please tell me she didn't bring her son?"

Leander chuckled, leaning against the wall by the window. "You don't give us enough credit, Harry. We know she's your friend, and we wouldn't hurt one of your friends. Otherwise I'd have killed the Malfoy boy long ago. And no, she did not bring her son. She came alone."

Harry just sighed, unwilling to get into another argument about Draco, and instead shook his head and once more reclined. "Bloody stupid woman," he muttered. "Well, why was she concerned for me?"

"Why do you think?" Leander asked dryly.

"Me being found out," Harry replied after barely a moment's consideration. "Voldemort. Snape."

"Exactly. And she isn't the only one concerned, Harry. I've met with the creatures of the Forest, and they have agreed to guard you. Thom's there even now, keeping things under control. I have also sent messengers to my father."

"Your father?" Harry repeated, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. "What for?"

"We owe you a great debt, Harry," Leander said with uncharacteristic formality. "Now we will begin to repay it."

Harry frowned. "Could you be any more vague" he asked sarcastically. "And what 'debt'?"

"You saved my life," Leander reminded him a touch testily. "And my sister's. Remember?"

"Well, yeah," Harry replied, "but it's not _that_ big a deal. Besides, I was just returning the favor."

"Perhaps, but that hardly cancels the debt, not in vampire law. And it is a big deal," Leander said. "It is a very big deal indeed."

"Fine," Harry relented, before changing the subject. He didn't much like talk of debts and heroism. "And how did you get the Forest creatures to agree?"

Leander smirked. "We vampires have a certain amount of sway over other Dark creatures. And the Light creatures agreed immediately, as you are, after all, the one meant to fight the Dark Lord."

Harry's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Meant to fight the Dark Lord," he repeated.

"That is your destiny, after all. Oh, don't look so surprised; it's fairly obvious that you'll be the one to kill him."

Harry briefly debated telling Leander the prophecy, but decided to stay silent. The fewer people who knew, the better. He did trust Leander, at least to a greater degree that he trusted anyone but Chance and Draco, but he doubted his friend could hold up to the torture Voldemort would subject him to if the Dark Lord even suspected the vampire knew of the prophecy.

"How did you get the Neutral ones to agree?" Harry asked, pushing away his unpleasant thoughts - at least for the moment.

"The centaurs, you mean?" Leander drawled. "They aren't fools, Harry. They know very well what will happen if Voldemort should win. At best, they will be enslaved. At worst, they will be hunted down and destroyed for being half-breeds. They agreed fairly quickly to protecting you in case of an attack. But," and now the vampire looked mildly embarrassed, "they do want to meet with you before fully committing to your cause."

"_My_ cause?" Harry asked, astonished.

"Yes, your cause," Leander affirmed with an odd intensity, eyes boring into Harry's own. "This cannot be Dumbledore's cause, Harry, or you will become nothing more than a pawn. You must not allow yourself to become his figurehead."

Harry nodded slowly, mulling over everything the vampire had told him. "Yeah, I know. I just hate this. It's only been one day and I'm ready to start screaming."

"You won't be alone," Leander said softly. "I'll be here, for one."

"_What?_"

The dark-haired vampire grinned, baring his glossy fangs. "Surely the great Harry Potter cannot be without a bodyguard?"

Harry gaped in disbelief. "You've got to be kidding me. Dumbledore will never allow…" He trailed off at Leander's disapproving frown, remembering what the vampire had just been saying. Closing his eyes, he frowned and said, "My fight, right?"

"Exactly," Leander said with a miniscule nod, sounding momentarily satisfied. "Allow Dumbledore to advise you, but do not let him control you."

"Well, this should be fun," Harry groaned, falling all the way back onto his bed. "Oh, has Macnair -"

"Not yet," Leander said regretfully. "But we'll get him. Go back to sleep, Harry. You'll need all the rest you can get."

Harry snorted and lifted his head to look tauntingly at his friend. "Dumbledore said pretty much the same thing, you know."

Leander rolled his eyes. "Yes, well, Dumbledore can occasionally make sense. Sleep."

Grumbling more for show than out of any true resentment, Harry did as he was told.

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Review Responses (As I've gotten over sixty reviews for the last chapter, I really can't reply to each and every one individually- or I'd never have time to write Invictus):

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**Nimbirosa:** Narrows eyes. If you stop reviewing, then I'll revoke your status as beta.

**KittenRebecca:** I wouldn't say Snape and Chance are friends, exactly, but Chance is a favored former pupil of his. Snicker- the poor staff will eventually get used to him.

**MinaLynn:** Glad you liked that line, as I almost edited it out.

**athenakitty:** Yeah, Harry will definitely be pushing people's buttons. Harry's not quite a healthy size- too thin, and just a little bit above average height. I'm afraid he probably won't be doing a lot of pranking- he'll be too busy. Dumbledore's goat...snicker...images of Aberforth and his 'inappropriate charms' flash through my mind...

**Silvrei:** Chortles...a parrot. That'd be great, actually...at least then he could swear. Trust me, I'm praying to escape writer's block this time around...fingers crossed.

**lmill123:** No, he won't be friends with Ron- but don't judge Ron too harshly. He's one of my favorite characters. So he got jealous in his fourth year...he also got over it, and he's always stood by Harry. ...er, sorry, didn't mean to rant. Sheepish smile.

**captuniv: **You know, you're the only one who's asked about the testing. Glad you like the brawling!

**Josephine J. Turpin:** Kingsley will actually have a fairly large part, eventually. Happy dance- I like him. A lot. Earring, deep voice, dangerous job, strong and silent type...what's not to swoon over? And I've apparently confounded everyone with the animagus thing. Mental British accent...laughs.

**uten:** Harry's got an interesting sense of humor when it comes to insulting people, I think. Snide and snarky- that's pretty much how I act, so it's easy to make one of my characters the same way. Glad you thought the chapter was interesting- I don't like making people bored. For one, they're less likely to review.

**Project Nemesis** and** reviewer:** Sorry, folks.

**Akuma-sama:** Nah, Snake wasn't bad. And hey, I'm mortally embarrassed of the first few fics I posted. Shudder. And yes, I read a lot. I'm a complete bookworm. My bedroom is practically a library. And many thanks to the c2 folks, then.

**uNople:** Actually, I think I quite like Vernon. He's funny. But Dudley and Petunia...urgh. And Dumbledore's a cunning one, yes.

**Surarrin:** As for the Cloak and Map, they might come into play. I ain't saying, though. And Solve Lora? What on earth? Am now v. confused.

**Eaiva le Fay:** Eew, Harry's not even a decent citizen in the books- there's no way he'll be one in Invictus. And hey, I like the Fat Man in the Menagerie. ...actually, on reflection, I don't. He reminds me too much of Pettigrew. And I like keeping people guessing, so of course I have to keep bringing up more and more questions.

**sean's grrl:** Glad the psychotic killer likes! And you may yet convert me to manga...

**Larna Mandrea:** Hey, I figured Horizont Alley was kinda awkward, so... Shrugs. I do love Shacklebolt. I'm not sure the reviews brought me joy so much as a huge ego-boost. Grins. And yes, you are indeed my New Best Friend. Anyone who flatters me is automatically on my good list.

**IndiaInk:** Glad you like! I'm an insomniac too, actually, so I know the feeling. And Angsty!Harry is pretty much my favorite, as you probably know from my various one-shots.

**Munching Munchkin Managem:** Harry is not gay; as for how well he knows Draco...you'll find out soon enough. The other characters are all as they are in the books; the only difference in the Invictus universe is that Harry ran away from the Dursleys. So yes, Hermione is still a know-it-all, the Weasleys are still poor, Neville's parents are still at St. Mungo's, and so on. You'll find out more about the various DADA professors later.

**Himura Seraphina:** Snicker- yeah, I can see that too. I'll have to stick that in somewhere...or several somewheres... Grin.

**ZZ9PluralZAlpha:** I'll have to thank Nim, then. Hey, aren't you her beta? She mentioned a guy named Tom with an impossible penname...which, for some reason, seems oddly familiar...hmm. It's a mystery...

**Talons:** I'm beginning to think you have a leather coat fetish of some sort. Grin.

Thanks also to: **Joejoe103, Night-Owl123, darkangelaliasbuffylover, Flying with the pixies, Heala, Quillian, Agnus Dei, Dirbatua, TopQuark, E.A.V, Paru-chan, Shadowed Rains, Ravens-Jade, Dragonero, HecateDeMort, Chaos-Empersonified, Lady Urguentha, Rey of Jazz, Dark Protege, Anon, laimerkian, yuiop, hpstoryguy, Beornthryth, Imaginary 404, Goddess of Muffins, Thayet Conte, Lady11Occult, methoslover, That Kid Crying In The Corner, Willow26, Talkin' of normality, Tondo-the-half-elf, nightbug08, mr.voldemort, kg, Tinabinna6666, Circe Visigoth, lucas13, Fire Gazer, Crissy Potter, Dadaiiro, Cherrysinger, Allyanna, and Skuld's Sentaro3. Oh, and all the nice folks who put me on their favorites list.**

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Preview (because I can):

_"I did tell you," Harry drawled, "that my friends aren't the sort you'd take home to see Mum."_

_"Well yes," she agreed, wide-eyed, "but I figured you were talking about...I dunno, street kids or prostitutes, at the very worst."_

_"Them too," Harry said with a shrug and a smirk. _

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REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW! I beg you!


	6. Chapter Five: Harry, the Vampire Hunter

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of his friends. I'm really not into the whole slavery thing, you know.

Many thanks to **M'cha Araem** and **Nimbirosa**, who are both exceedingly beta-tastic. Read their fics - Nimbirosa's chapter fic Seventh Child is especially good, as is M'cha's one-shot, A Grand, Dramatic Gesture.

Thanks for all the corny pick-up lines! I can't use them all, alas, but the ones that made me giggle or snort will be inserted into the fic with surgical precision. Right. Ah, they won't come into play until chapter 10 or so, so don't be disappointed if none show up right away. Anywho, some of the more vulgar examples, while amusing, are a bit too risque for me. God only knows how I can write R rated fics and then blush at a mildly dirty joke...

**FAQs at my LJ - my homepage on my profile.**

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Chapter Five: Harry, the Vampire Hunter

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_Destiny is as destiny does. If you believe you have no control, then you have no control. _

_-Wess Roberts_

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Leander woke Harry relatively early the next morning, while most of the sky was still a light purple, going pink and blue at the very edge of the horizon. Harry was less than pleased to have his sleep interrupted, but didn't bother going back to bed. He knew from experience that Leander would just drag him back out again.

"God, I hate mornings," the youth muttered, scowling at his so-called friend. Leander just laughed, leaning on the windowsill. The pale morning sunlight didn't affect him - vampires were sensitive to the sun, yes, but the stronger ones weren't liable to burst into flames if they went outside on a bright day.

Harry glanced around his room and noted with a pang of disappointment that his new owl still hadn't returned. He'd grown rather fond of her in a short time and had been hoping to introduce her to his vampire companion.

"Come on," the dark creature in question said, openly ogling Harry as he dressed, "Dumbledore will be here in a few minutes to fetch you for breakfast."

"How do you know that?" Harry demanded, pausing as he pulled his pants on over his boxers.

"Harry," the vampire drawled in response to Harry's irritated query, "you should realize by now that I know everything."

"Sure you do," Harry snickered, shrugging on his shirt and then his beloved leather jacket, which had survived more fights than a war veteran. He was pleased to note that all his clothes had been mended and cleaned overnight. House Elves, most likely.

Harry rather liked House Elves. Chance had had two or three over the years, and they'd been excellent company once they stopped bursting into tears whenever he was at all kind to them. Dobby was always good for a laugh, too.

Besides, House Elves also made surprisingly good spies.

They had nothing on Leander, though; the vampire always seemed to know exactly what was happening in the world at any given moment.

The vampire in question looked Harry over appraisingly. All his weapons had been tucked away, his clothes were in a better state than they'd been since he'd stolen them, his hair was tied back at the nape of his neck, and his bruises had healed overnight, thanks to Leander's intervention… "Looking good."

"Only good?" Harry asked, smiling.

"Delicious," Leander corrected himself, his fangs glinting in the soft morning light. "Though the smell could be better."

Harry gestured rudely at the vampire, then drew one of his wands - the one for everyday usage - and cast a cleansing charm on himself.

"Happy now?" he asked as he holstered the wand.

"Ecstatic."

Any reply from Harry was forestalled by a knock on his door.

"Dumbledore," Harry murmured. He glanced at Leander worriedly, but the vampire didn't move from his spot by the window. He was looking at Harry challengingly, and his words from the previous night echoed in the young man's ears.

"My fight," Harry muttered, resigned. "Right."

And he opened the door.

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_A man who is a master of patience is master of everything else. _

_-George Savile, Marquis of Halifax_

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The first thing Albus saw was Harry, clean and healthy and…defiant?

The second thing Albus saw was a lean, almost gaunt form framed by the window. Pale, with an oddly hypnotizing pale blue gaze…

"Who is this?" Albus asked guardedly, knowing right away _what_ the visitor was.

"Leander," Harry replied, looking him straight in the eye. Albus fought the urge to use the Legilimens spell; he didn't want to do anything that might compromise the tentative understanding he and Harry had come to the previous day. "He's an old friend of mine."

Albus inhaled deeply in shock. "Leander. Would that be Prince Leander? The son of the Vampires' leader?"

The handsome, if overly thin man bowed mockingly. "At your service."

"I see," Albus said slowly. He couldn't help but be amused - Harry really did seem to get around. The boy was just full of surprises, and Albus had a feeling the upcoming year was going to be very, very interesting.

"Leander will be here for a while," Harry spoke up calmly, though with a sardonic curl of his lips. "He's my new bodyguard, apparently."

"Apparently?" Albus repeated, bemused. Vampires were not social creatures by nature, and they very rarely had anything to do with humans when they weren't feeding. For a vampire to willingly guard a human - for a _prince _of the vampires to become a human's bodyguard - it was positively unheard of. Frankly, Albus didn't know what to think.

"It wasn't my choice," Harry said with a casual shrug in response to Albus' questioning tone. "The great prat decided I'm in danger - I suppose he's right, really, what with Voldemort and all - and so here he is."

"And I suppose it would kill you to show gratitude," the vampire said dryly. Albus stared hard at the newcomer, seeing the affection for Harry in his blue eyes, and the protectiveness. And something else as well, something that set warning bells ringing in the Headmaster's mind.

"Harry," he said slowly, never taking his eyes off the vampire, "if I might speak privately with Prince Leander?"

The boy was obviously a bit leery of leaving his friend alone with the Headmaster, but nodded his agreement after the vampire shot him a look Albus couldn't quite decipher. "I'll just head on to the Great Hall," Harry said, before going to his bed to fetch his snake, which he allowed to twine around his arm. Albus wondered in the back of his mind if any of Voldemort's powers had transferred to Harry that night so long ago - if Harry was a parselmouth, his ease with snakes would then certainly be explained.

Harry sent one last cautious look at them, then shook his head and left.

Albus waited until he was sure that his new ward was gone before saying, with absolute certainty, "You're in love with him."

Leander's eyes widened and his lips went slack for a brief moment, before he regained control of himself. "Excuse me?" His tone was haughty and brusque, but Albus was a perceptive man and heard the tremor running through the prince's voice.

"You," Albus repeated calmly, "are in love with Harry Potter."

And vampires in love were dangerous creatures indeed.

Leander's eyes darkened angrily, but he didn't even bother denying Albus' statement. Indeed, his only response was a cold, "And?"

"Are your feelings returned?"

The vampire laughed shortly and bitterly. "He isn't even aware that I care for him in such a way. My feelings are completely unrequited, and are more than likely to remain that way." His tone was hard as stone, and as chilly.

"Are you planning on turning him?" Albus' voice was just as hard - he wouldn't allow Harry to be harmed. And turning was certainly harmful - there was no guarantee that Harry would retain his sanity or his magic, and very, very few vampires kept their original personalities after being turned.

Oddly enough, Leander looked almost insulted. "Turn him?" he repeated, scoffing. "The boy may act like a little snot, Headmaster, but he's one of the purest beings I've met. I couldn't turn him if I tried."

Albus was taken aback, and intrigued. He knew quite a lot about dark creatures, and he'd never, never heard of a failed turning. "Explain," he ordered.

The vampire sighed theatrically and sat on Harry's bed with an easy familiarity that set Albus' teeth on edge. Sensing the Headmaster's discomfort, Leander smirked and smoothed the blanket with an almost proprietary hand.

"You know the basics about vampires, do you not?" he drawled, an eyebrow raised in mocking inquiry. Albus merely inclined his head, unwilling to be baited.

"Then you know that there are three types of vampire," Leander said, though it came out as a question.

"Master, wild, and lesser," Albus replied with what he knew was an infuriating little smile.

Leander's smirk faded slightly when he realized that Albus wasn't going to lose his preternatural calm. "Quite," the vampire bit out. "What few people realize is that vampires - at least, Masters and some wilds - can sense which of the three types of vampire a person will become, if turned. Generally, those of strong will but average intellect become wild vampires. Those of weak will always become lesser vampires. And those of strong will, strong mind, and strong emotion become Masters.

"But not everyone can become a vampire. A certain quality is needed - not darkness, as everyone has something of darkness in them, it's part of being human - but a touch of evil, I suppose is the best way of putting it. Harry is one of those extremely rare people who would grieve for a fallen enemy. He values every life as if it is as important as his own - or more important than his own. He will, in any situation, place another's needs above his own survival, and that protects him from ever becoming a vampire. If one of us tried to turn him...well, imagine drinking acid."

"This is fascinating," Albus murmured, for once being completely honest. "Does Harry know he is impervious to vampirism?"

Leander chuckled, relaxing when he saw that the Headmaster believed him. "Yes. He denies it, though. He's a rather odd boy, by all accounts - he seems to feel that his lack of innate evil is a weakness."

"Is that why you love him?"

Leander laughed again, and this time it came out harsh, almost choked. "My dear Headmaster," he said, "I love him for many reasons, complicated and varied. And I love his selflessness almost as much as I hate it."

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_Nunquam commoda homini lupinotuum pectinem crinalem. - Never lend a werewolf your hairbrush. _

_-Anonymous_

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Harry didn't allow himself to feel nervous about meeting properly with the Hogwarts faculty for the first time. Instead, he gathered all of his courage and confidence and strode into the Great Hall as if he owned the whole of Scotland. Green, wrapped around his left arm under his shirt and leather jacket, hissed comfortingly as he passed through the doors. No doubt she could sense his apprehension.

There was an awkward, sudden silence when he entered the Great Hall, and Harry stopped short, blinking at the sheer number of people gathered in the chamber. What the _hell_?

"What the _hell_?" he said, always one to say what he thought.

"Ah, Mister Potter," McGonagall said, standing. She looked rather unsettled - the closest, Harry imagined, that she ever got to outright nervousness. "We were expecting Albus to be with you. I see he did not explain... This is the full Order of the Phoenix. Have you heard of us?"

Harry shrugged and glanced around, noting in the back of his mind that it seemed Snape was a spy, after all. One less person he'd have to guard against, and that was all to the good, he supposed.

There was a strained silence when he didn't say anything, which was finally broken by a familiar pink-haired auror, who was, to Harry's surprise, brave enough to come up and pull playfully on his ponytail.

"Wotcher, Harry."

"'Lo," Harry said with a slow smirk, revising his original opinion of the young woman as clumsy but otherwise unremarkable, excepting her metamorphmagus abilities. It wasn't often he came across someone who dared to take such liberties with him when he was being an arse. "So how did Fudge take my little gift?"

She sniggered. "He went a lovely shade of puce - thought for a moment that he'd been holding out on some metamorphmagus talents, that's how deep it was."

Harry snorted derisively. "I think it's safe to assume that what few talents Fudge might have are already out in the open."

A few of the gathered wizards and witches shot him reprimanding looks at his blatant disrespect for the Minister. Harry ignored them - the Minister was a moron, and anyone who thought otherwise was clearly deluded.

"Right then," he said. "What's for breakfast?"

Tonks grinned, her eyes dancing with amusement from his previous comment. Apparently she wasn't too fond of Fudge, either. "You can eat anything your shriveled little heart desires, Potter me lad," she said boisterously. "Just call up a house elf if you don't see what you want at the table."

He glanced at the table in question- it was round and beyond huge. "Jesus Christ," he muttered, "What is this, Camelot?"

"I suppose that would make Dumbledore Merlin," Tonks said, hair going blue. A few people laughed, while most others seemed unsure of what their response ought to be. Harry didn't much care about their reactions, though; as far as he was concerned, they could all go hang.

Well, all right, so he did sort of like Tonks and Shacklebolt, even if they _were_ aurors, and the faculty hadn't seemed so bad...

Bloody hell. He was going soft.

"So who'd be Arthur?" he asked, scanning the myriad faces. He paused, seeing Sirius Black. The man was staring at him, something like desperation in his gaze. Uncomfortable, Harry moved on.

"Arthur? Why you, of course," Tonks said with a wicked smile, oblivious to Harry's uncertainty when it came to his godfather. Not for the first time, he wondered if he'd made the right choice in coming to Hogwarts rather than going to Black.

"Me?" Harry repeated skeptically, deciding to wallow later, when there were no witnesses. "Yeah, right. I'm not exactly the hero type, _Nymphadora._"

The young auror's eyes narrowed, and she yanked on Harry's ponytail again, this time rather harder. Harry shot her an injured look, complete with a pout.

"Did I say something wrong?" he asked innocently. Tonks rolled her eyes, but seemed more amused than irritated.

"I should make introductions," she said, wrinkling her nose much more than nose should be wrinkled (Harry really was starting to become jealous of her metamorphmagus powers) and looking around the Great Hall. "You already met the professors -"

"-and such fun that was," Harry muttered under his breath. Tonks snickered, and McGonagall's eyes narrowed to slits. Harry wondered, a bit nervously, if she'd somehow heard his comment. She didn't seem like someone to mess with.

For some reason, Harry's courage tended to fail when he was faced with a female in the grips of a bad temper.

"Right," Tonks said, grinning at his discomfiture, "and you've met Kingsley, obviously." Harry nodded to the older man a bit warily - he could just about relax around Tonks, but he wasn't exactly the sort of person that followed the letter of the law, and he'd harbored an instinctive distrust of people in authority for most of his life. Nevertheless, Kingsley seemed a decent enough man.

"That there is Remus Lupin," she continued, nodding to a gaunt, graying man in tattered robes sitting near Sirius Black. "He was a friend of your parents, I think."

Harry's eyebrows rose. "Nice to meet you," he said with uncharacteristic politeness. Something about the amber-eyed man appealed to Harry - possibly the weary lines etching his face, or the kindness lurking in his gaze.

"You as well, Harry," Lupin said with a tired smile.

"And that rogue next to him," Tonks said with a wink at the man in question, "is my cousin, Sirius Black, the amazing wonder dog." Several people chuckled. Harry nodded guardedly, and Sirius offered him a tentative, "Hello, Harry."

Black looked a lot better than he had in the papers, that much was for certain. He wasn't nearly so skinny, and his hair was clean, the straggly beard gone.

Tonks looked like she was going to say something else about Sirius, but stopped and shook her head before moving on to the long line of redheads taking up a stretch of the table. "Right then. Those are the Weasleys - Molly, Arthur, and their kids Bill, Charlie, Fred, and George - Percy's off at the Ministry, but you'll probably meet him later. Ron and Ginny aren't in the Order yet, so they stay with old Isabelle Longbottom whenever we meet."

Harry carefully hid his surprise. Isabelle Longbottom...could she be any relation to Neville? Harry had met Neville a few years before, when the chubby boy had gotten separated from his grandmother in Diagon Alley - perhaps Grandmother Longbottom was Isabelle?

Harry was casual friends with the other boy, who knew him only as Ace. Neville was a nice enough bloke, not the sort Harry would normally associate with, but still interesting if you took the time to get to know him.

"Now, that's Alastor Moody, call him Mad Eye, and beside him is Hestia Jones, she's a Healer..."

Tonks went on like that for a few more minutes, until Dumbledore and Leander arrived. Harry was relieved to note that neither man was injured.

Leander had barely set foot in the Great Hall before Lupin was on his feet, his wand out and pointed at Harry's self-appointed bodyguard.

"Werewolf," Leander murmured in surprise, eyebrows raised.

"Vampire," Lupin returned coolly. There was an instant uproar, and the entire Order was ready to attack.

Harry was caught between anger and amusement. He certainly hadn't seen this coming - and who would have thought there'd be a werewolf in the Order, anyway? Not that he particularly cared, as long as Lupin left Leander alone. Harry didn't have much time for prejudice of any sort, and he'd met his share of werewolves in Knockturn Alley.

"Stand down, all of you," Dumbledore said sternly. The Order looked at him incredulously, clearly wondering if he'd finally gone mad, but did as he bade, reclaiming their seats and putting away their wands. Harry frowned - they really shouldn't have been so accepting. It was good for them to have trust and confidence in their leader, but blind loyalty never led to anything but trouble.

Once everyone had settled back down, Dumbledore said, "This is Prince Leander. He will be at Hogwarts for the foreseeable future, acting as Harry's personal guard."

"What!" Sirius yelped, horrified. "You're having a vampire guard my godson?"

The moment the words left his mouth, he fell silent and shot a nervous look at Harry, who shrugged and said, "I already know you're my godfather - Dumbledore told me at the Ministry. And Leander's fine - I've known him for years. He's one of my closest friends."

Leander leered suggestively. Harry rolled his eyes.

"You're friends with a vampire?" Tonks demanded, the only one not currently speechless. Harry was willing to bet that the young woman was never speechless, and that she'd be yammering on even after she was in the grave.

"I did tell you," Harry drawled, "that my friends aren't the sort you'd take home to see Mum."

"Well yes," she agreed, wide-eyed, "but I figured you were talking about...I dunno, street kids or prostitutes, at the very worst."

"Them too," Harry said with a shrug and a smirk.

"You will find," Leander spoke up with a funny little smile, "that Harry has a number of friends, most of them in odd places. Some of them are even _respectable_," he added after a moment, in tones of utter disgust.

"I'll believe _that_ when I see it," Tonks muttered.

"Chance is respectable," Harry said indignantly, ready as always to defend his friends. Draco, Neville, and some of Harry's other friends were respectable, too, but Harry didn't want to deal with the uproar that'd come if he mentioned Malfoy.

Funny, Harry mused, how Draco was able to inspire trouble and extreme annoyance when he wasn't even present.

"She's been a suspected Dark supporter since her fifth year, Harry," Tonks shot back.

"That doesn't mean she's not respectable," was Harry's stubborn reply.

"Perhaps," Dumbledore broke in, no doubt sensing an impending argument, "we should have breakfast before debating the merits of Harry's friends. Hmm?"

Harry would have argued, but just then his stomach grumbled, so he shrugged and did as suggested. He always had time for food, after all.

Leander smirked knowingly. Harry sneered.

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_Eat thy bread with joy, and drink thy wine with a merry heart. _

_-Bible, Ecclesiastes 9:7 _

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Breakfast was a long, chaotic, noisy affair. Harry remained relatively quiet, shoveling food into his mouth as if he hadn't eaten in days and didn't foresee another meal for a long time to come. This wasn't necessarily indicative of his life on the streets, however, as all of the Weasley offspring were doing much the same.

Sirius spent most of the meal bickering with Molly Weasley and Lupin; Harry couldn't hear exactly what they were saying, as they were quite a ways down the table, but he suspected he was the subject, since they kept glancing at him. Kingsley and Arthur Weasley were speaking in low tones about a raid. Tonks was flirting outrageously with Charlie Weasley, who seemed to have gone a permanent cherry red, and Hestia Jones was stealing looks at Bill Weasley like a shy first year. Fred and George mocked their various two older brothers, along with Tonks and Jones, mercilessly. Mundungus Fletcher looked ready to sink into the floor, as Alastor Moody had apparently decided it was time to take the younger man to task for being a 'disgrace to wizardry'.

Snape and McGonagall appeared to be debating something vitally important, though Leander said it was actually just a chance for them to insult each others' intelligence without sounding overly childish. Leander himself spent most of the meal looking longingly at Emmaline Vance's elegant, slender neck; Vance was ignoring the vampire altogether, though her neighbors shot her nervous glances through most of breakfast.

And Dumbledore...Dumbledore beamed as he watched his Order behave like a pack of hormonal teenagers.

Harry wasn't stupid enough to underestimate the Order, despite their less than professional behavior. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that they were a lot tougher than they seemed - he knew, after all, that they'd been the only ones to really stand a chance against Voldemort during the first war, and they were all that stood against him now.

The funny thing was, though, that other than a few sporadic attacks and raids, Voldemort was mostly lying low. Some of Harry's contacts thought it was just to give him time to prepare his army; others were certain that Voldemort had other plans - such as finding Harry, the only person to have ever defeated him. Draco just thought Voldemort was a lazy sod who preferred torturing his own followers to actually getting on with the whole world domination bit.

Sighing inaudibly, Harry speared a sausage with his fork and bit off the end. Bloody war. Why couldn't Voldemort have just stayed wherever the hell he'd been? Harry didn't want to risk life and limb just because of some dumb prophecy. He liked his life just fine as it was, thanks.

"All right?" Leander murmured at his side.

Harry eyed him balefully. "I thought you were transfixed by Vance's jugular."

"Just trying to make her nervous," Leander replied with a little scowl. "Bloody woman's imperturbable."

Harry fluttered his eyelashes. "But I thought you liked a challenge," he said in a breathless, simpering voice. Leander gestured rudely in response, and Harry snickered before reaching for the syrup to drench his remaining sausages.

"Pig," Leander muttered, his upper lip curling in distaste as Harry practically drowned his food in sugar.

"Says the bloodsucker."

"You wound me deeply, Potter."

"Just call me Harry, the Vampire Hunter."

"Now equipped with syrup."

"Arse."

"Twit."

"Fu-"

Leander cleared his throat pointedly, glancing at the gathered Order members - all of whom were clearly listening in on their, ah, discussion. Harry, who had been about to say something rather vile, saw McGonagall's stern gaze and decided meekly that it might be a good time to actually start eating his sugary sausages. Fred and George Weasley grinned, and Tonks snickered.

Well, Harry would just have to get back at the metamorphmagus somehow. He smirked evilly, and several of the Order members suddenly seemed rather worried.

"You're scary when you smile," Leander informed him.

Harry glowered.

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_You may have to fight a battle more than once to win it. _

_-Margaret Thatcher_

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Once breakfast was over, Albus asked Harry, "Did you have any plans for today?"

Harry appreciated the question - it was a good indication that the Headmaster was thinking of him as his own person, rather than a stupid kid or a tool to be used.

"Actually," he said, knowing the rest of the Order was listening intently - and Jesus, was everything he said so very interesting that they had to hear- "Leander and I have an appointment with a few centaurs." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that the vampire prince, and that sounded so unbelievably hokey, nod in approval. Probably just glad I didn't forget all about the centaurs, Harry decided.

"Centaurs?" Lupin repeated, frowning.

"They want to meet me before they agree to fight Voldemort," Harry said with a shrug, his brows furrowing when several Order members flinched. Weren't these people supposed to be fighting the bastard? How could they stand up to him if they were too afraid to say his bloody name?

"The centaurs have agreed to fight Voldemort?" Hestia Jones repeated, eyes wide. "But they've refused to have anything to do with us or the war!"

"They haven't agreed yet," Harry corrected patiently. "As I said, they want to meet me first. And who knows why centaurs do anything?"

"Someone should go with you," Black spoke up. "There are things in the forest that won't hesitate to kill you."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "I'm quite capable of taking care of myself, thanks," he said coldly. "And Leander will be with me." He decided not to mention that the vampires had already swayed pretty much all the forest creatures to his side.

"And you trust the vampire not to harm you?" Vance asked skeptically, shooting Leander a disdainful sneer. Leander just smirked back, his eyes hooded and his head tilted just so.

Vance was good. She didn't so much as blush.

"Yes, I trust Leander not to hurt me," Harry said tiredly, wondering how many times he'd have to argue this. "I've known him since I was a kid; if he wanted to harm me, he'd have done so a long time ago. Besides, he couldn't hurt me if he wanted to."

"Doesn't do to get conceited, boy," Moody grunted.

"That isn't what he meant," Leander said calmly. "If I were to harm him in any way, I would immediately be a target for every other vampire in the world. The king - my father - has placed Harry under his protection."

This was news even to Harry. He'd only meant that Leander owed him a blood debt, little as he liked it, and that vampires, like wizards, were bound by such debts. But this...this was definitely unexpected. "Your father did _what_?" he demanded, even as the Order managed to recover from this newest shock.

"He is inordinately fond of you," Leander replied dryly. "I don't know what you two talked about when you met, but he's been singing your praises ever since."

"One more for the fan club," Harry groaned. Snape snorted in amusement, earning himself a few startled looks from those who hadn't thought the Potions Master capable of humor.

Harry did get along swimmingly with Leander's father, King Matthias, especially as he'd been the one to save the King's two children from extermination at the hands of an overzealous hunter several months ago. But he certainly hadn't thought the King liked him _that_ much. They'd only ever met a few times, after all, as the King was in Russia and never left. Harry enjoyed traveling as much as the next man, but he didn't like visiting one place too often. It made the novelty wear off.

"Besides," Leander continued, seeing that Black still wanted to object, "Harry has other guards as well. A friend of mine - Thom, you remember him, Harry, he gave you that dagger - he's in the forest right now."

"It'll be all right," Harry snapped, annoyed that the Order still looked unconvinced. At least Dumbledore wasn't overly concerned - or if he was, he hid it well. And Shacklebolt was similarly unworried, probably because he'd been one of those to see the state of the Death Eaters Harry had taken out. "I'm not helpless, you know, and Leander and Thom together are more than enough to keep me safe."

"Very well," Dumbledore said, earning himself incredulous stares from many of his followers. "Be careful, Harry."

Harry fought the urge to roll his eyes - he was rolling them far too often as it was, and he didn't want them to seize up or anything from too much movement. "Right. I will. Anyway, I'm not leaving for another few hours - centaurs tend to be grumpy in the mornings, and no, please don't ask me how I know, as it's a long and humiliating story involving whiskey and multicolored shrubberies. Until then, there's a few letters I need to write and the like. So, if I may be excused?" The last was said with extreme sarcasm.

"Of course. Let me know before you leave, Harry." All right, so maybe Dumbledore really wasn't so bad now that he'd gotten over that fit of paternal instinct from the previous day. That didn't mean Harry had to be any less a bastard.

Right?

Damn it, he hated being mature.

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Review Responses (Sorry I can't reply to each and every one of you individually)

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**Waltz for Zizi:** I've been playing around with Vertic Alley in various different (and unpublished) stories, then decided I might as well stick it in here. Vertic Alley is full of musty old antique shops and used book stores, along with a couple of inns and a few tea houses. In my mind, it's a fairly quiet place and the only real action comes from The Lock and Lantern, which is rather rowdy. HPSS is my OTP, and I adore HarryRemus. And yet I also like certain het pairings.

**Nimbirosa:** Hmm. That's what you think... Evil grin.

**Quillian:** Of course I'll explain! It might take me quite some time, but I'll get there. And yes, I thought the bite me thing was, ah, appropriate, given the circumstances. Grin.

**KittenRebecca:** Gotta love the Order. And no, Harry really doesn't want to have anything to do with the war - but he hasn't been given much of a choice. Glad you liked the preview!

**athenakitty:** Darlin', as long as you review, I don't care what you say. Of course, flattery's always welcome... And I like questions and comments both, as well.

**lmill123:** Snicker...neither Snape nor Dumbledore can mind their own business, can they? Of course, Harry's no better. Dumbledore is a little too sure of himself in the books and in here, but that's one of the things I love about him. Grins.

**Akuma-sama:** Glad you like Chance. And yeah, Bloody Mary isn't particularly original, but it still makes me smirk. Rolf isn't Leander's childe - at least, I don't think he is. Shrugs.

**Disco Jesus:** May I just state for the record that I adore your penname? Snicker. And I'm glad I could help you out with your story, unintentional as it may have been. I really do adore Harry - he's a surprisingly complicated character, though he might not seem to be at first.

**uten:** Oy - one of my worst fears is that my version of Harry will end up Gary-Stuish. I want him to have faults. I want him to have many faults. And the wizarding world's Jack Sparrow? LMAO - ah, Jack. Misty smile...I do so adore Johnny Depp. Especially as a pirate.

**Eaiva le Fay: **Wow. Thanks so much for all the lines - so many of them are just what I was looking for. Leander's dad is the vampire king, and god, that sounds cornier than any of the chat-up lines.

**sean's grrl:** You know, Krystal is really starting to frighten me. And I thought Nim was the sadistic one, not you (or any of your various personalities). Knife collection? I think I prefer gryphon to Krystal.

**Jade Dragon1: **Glad you like the OCs. I wouldn't say that Harry's the most powerful wizard in the world - for instance, I believe both Dumbledore and Voldemort are more powerful, if only because they've lived longer and have had a chance to learn more and train themselves. As for the vampires...well, what can I say? I like vampires.

**ZZ9PluralZAlpha:** Snicker...gotta love Douglas Adams, even if his stories were just random ramblings. Hmm...so there's an anti-writer's-block ritual dance? I'll have to remember that. I tend to get to the middle of a story and then suddenly completely run out of steam...oh well. I've got six more chapters already written, so you'll at least get that much.

**M'cha Araem: **I can't help it. I have this compulsion..._update_, the little voices whisper, _update now_! Ahem. Yeah, Shay is an addition (a rabid plot bunny attacked, and I barely escaped with my life), as is the map on the ceiling. I'm pretty sure Ace was there all along, though I might have added it in later. Maverick...snicker.

Thanks also to (in no particular order): **Bobboky, jonna594, Heala**, **ellie** (that one's actually sort of clever, in a cheesy way)**, G, Smiles, GreyGranian, hpz26, ak-alterego, darkangelaliasbuffylover, jbcna, E.A.V **(interesting imagery)**, Queen Victoria, Crissy Potter,** **Surarrin **(either fire or hell?)**, Bekah, RiverSong DreamShadow, uNople **(hope I answered some of your questions in the QA section)**, methoslover, Fate, captuniv **(thanks - I'm always worrying that everyone is completely OOC)**, pazed, minalynn, ShadowQuirk, Lil Ole Me 97** (thanks for all the reviews!)**, PantherGuide** (if it happens again, just paste in the story url with the proper chapter number)**, Mistress of Sadikus, Darcey, ****Josephine J. Turpin** (I'm apparently a Kingsley fangirl. Who'da thunk it?)**, Acerbus Sidus, TheConfused, lyress, RiDoFsTaRs **(I was actually looking for chat-up lines, but I love these)** Circe Visigoth, Ferdia, CrawBrad **(sure did help!)**, chimaera1, Lady11Occult, Black-Rose1243 **(the site didn't show up - but it's the thought that counts, right?)**, Sofie Christianson, kabab, xiann, Nytingale** (glad you're enjoying this)**, Charmina, minervakittycat, Cherrysinger** (hey, Harry's gotta be bad at something)**, Shadowface, Jennifer, Confuzzler **(I adore your pen name)**, obsydia, neferseba,** **elvengoddess696, Meggplant** (glad you like the vamps)**, Shadowflame, Cap'n BlackRose, Talons **(are people actually stupid enough to use that line?)**, Pure Black, insanechildfanfic, KML Crow** (thanks for the lines; the last one made me chuckle)**, DollyGal, Ciardra **(male stupidity never ceases to amaze me)**, ocanus, ****Juve, LoonyLoopyLisa, ShadowMaiden** (snicker- great suggestion)** NoAlias, rozi126, Talkin' of normality, crab, Meg the fierce lady, Dadaiiro** (hope I answered at least some of your questions above)**, Robbly, Crystal Moon Dragon** (HarrySnape is actually my OTP, but I find it easier to write het)**, HecateDeMort, greg, Dragonero, Night-Owl123, Goddess of Muffins **(I'm not sure weird is the right word)**, Ashika, Morpheus, Neqs **(snorts - Dodo)** IndiaInk** (I think I'll likely use that line)**, MysterioX, ficfan, RainSeaker, mishap **(love the lines...the difference between oh and ah indeed!)**, ladysurf, SiLvErFaTeD, I-Shave-Clowns** (so many lines...so little time...so much cheesiness...)**, missfictionlover, angelkitty77, Cassiopeia91, jasi **(Ginny's alive and kicking; I'll eventually explain)**, SeekerTLK, ****StaringStars** (you're making me blush, you know)**, japanese-jew, Katriana Snape, Himura Seraphina** (yeah, vamps are definitely good)**, lucas13, anonymous, the person with no name, borne-shadow-childe**,and **lovingHP**.

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A preview. Because you're worth it.

_Harry, in an unusually playful mood, crept over to the vampire's side, angled his head so his lips were two inches from Leander's ear, and bellowed, "RISE AND SHINE!" He jumped back just in time to miss being hit by the vampire's flailing limbs, and cracked up completely when his old friend tumbled out of the bed and onto the floor in a mess of sheets and blankets._

_"What?" Leander asked blearily, looking around. "What's going on? Where'd the neck go?"_

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Review! Pretty please with Jack Sparrow on top?


	7. Chapter Six: Charismatic Harry Strikes A...

Many thanks to **Nimbirosa **and **M'cha Araem**, who continue to humor me. Now, why don't you humor me as well and read their fics? After you finish reading this, of course. Especially read Nim's new one shot - it's beyond hysterical. Snicker.

NOTE: Er...you know, if you're looking for a deep and meaningful fic, you should run away very quickly and go check out my plethora of angsty HP one shots, in which Harry alternately dies/bursts randomly into tears/makes faces at himself in a mirror/whines like Malfoy on a bad hair day. Invictus shouldn't be taken seriously. This story is just a chance for me to exercise my writing/humor muscles and indulge in my review fetish. So yeah, positive reviews are nice - but calling this 'wonderful' is going a bit far, especially as my Harry is turning into something of a Gary Stu right before my horrified eyes (godforgiveme).

**IMPORTANT: Is there anyone out there who wouldn't mind Britpicking this for me? And I really need to find another site to post my stories at, as this one is driving me absobloodylutely insane. Unleash your imagination my arse. I'm not even gonna touch on the 'freeing your soul' bit.**

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**Chapter Six: Charismatic!Harry Strikes Again**

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_Strange to see how a good dinner and feasting reconciles everybody. _

_-Samuel Pepys_

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The first letter Harry wrote was an angry missive to Chance, scathingly berating her for her utter stupidity in visiting Bloody Mary's. At the very end, he grudgingly thanked her for her concern, but reminded her that he was able to take care of himself, and that she should be more mindful of her son. Shay had no one else, so if Chance were to die...

All right, so Shay did have Harry as his godfather, but still...Harry wasn't quite ready to raise a kid.

He scribbled off a few quick notes to his friends who attended Hogwarts, letting them know that he'd be with them this year. He didn't bother telling them his real name; they'd figure that out soon enough, after seeing the papers. And Harry had absolutely no doubt that his reappearance would make the papers - he was, after all, the sodding Boy-Who-Lived.

Hedwig, named after a witch he'd read about long ago, had returned by then, looking well satisfied with herself. Harry assumed she'd had a successful hunt and gratefully thanked her for not bringing him any dead rodents as gifts. Wizarding owls had a tendency to be rather, ah, generous. He decided that his new familiar was just more intelligent that most owls, and knew better than to fill his room with mice carcasses.

No, he wasn't at all biased. Really.

The snowy was more than glad to deliver his letters. She even pecked him sharply when he asked her if she was certain she could take all the letters at once and not get them mixed up.

"Only you could offend an owl," was Leander's typically smart-arse observation.

"You're just jealous 'cause she actually likes me," was Harry's childish retort. Hedwig had barely known Leander for two minutes before she'd taken to clawing him with her talons whenever he got in range. Harry thought it was hysterical; Leander thought the owl would look good plucked and roasted.

Once Hedwig was gone, Harry turned to look at his old friend sternly. "Nap time for all the little vamps in the castle."

Leander frowned at him. "Don't be ridiculous, Harry. I'm a vampire; I don't need to sleep."

"You were awake all last night, and probably the full day before. I want you at your best when we visit the centaurs," Harry said commandingly. "And even vampires need to rest now and then."

"And what will you be doing while I'm asleep?" Leander asked suspiciously, knowing Harry couldn't stay cooped up in a room for a couple of hours without destroying various priceless items therein.

"I'll be exploring," Harry said cheerfully, standing up and stretching to work out the kinks in his back. His elbow knocked against the desk chair, which tilted precariously to the side before Harry could steady it.

"Exploring," Leander repeated blankly. "Not a chance."

"Don't be stupid, Leander. Snape's working for Dumbledore; he's not about to Avada Kedavra me in the middle of the Great Hall. And do you really think Dumbledore would let anything dangerous in the school?"

"I'm here."

"That's different, and you know it," Harry argued. "Now, get to bed. I'll be back in two hours, and then we'll go meet with the centaurs. And I'm not budging on this one, Leander, so don't even bother trying to change my mind."

"Fine," Leander growled, glaring at his young friend. He didn't enjoy being ordered around, not in the least. "Don't come crying to me when you've been hurt because of your own stubborn stupidity."

"I wasn't planning on it," Harry said dryly, before striding out of the room, ignoring the insults Leander shouted after him.

"Moron," he muttered, wondering why he'd ever bothered befriending the vampire prince in the first place.

He wandered around aimlessly for a while, chatting with the occasional portrait and grinning as he rode on the moving staircases, which were really quite fun. He was somewhere on the fifth floor when he came across Sirius Black and Remus Lupin, who were working on warding a closed door.

"'Lo," Harry said casually, making a mental note to return to the area as soon as possible and see what was behind the door.

Both men jumped and whirled to face him, their wands drawn and pointed at his head. They only relaxed after they realized he wasn't a Death Eater about to attack.

"Ah, hello, Harry," Lupin said awkwardly. The werewolf seemed nervous for some reason; Harry wondered why. He didn't think he was _that_ intimidating.

"Harry," Black said in his slightly hoarse voice, watching him with that same wierd intensity that Harry had noted before breakfast. "What are you doing here?"

"Just looking around a bit," Harry said with a shrug. "This place is _huge_."

Black laughed, which made him appear years younger and rather handsome. Even Lupin looked briefly amused before he went back to being apprehensive.

"Wait till you see the kitchens," Black said, eyes gleaming. "They're gigantic, and the house elves always load you down with whatever you want and some things you don't."

"Care to show me the way?" he asked his godfather, surprised by how easy this was. With the Dursleys, conversation had always been strained and cold; they'd never laughed with him, just at him.

"Of course," Black agreed, smiling. "I'm always ready to corrupt youth."

"I'll just...er, leave, I suppose..." Lupin trailed off, glancing down the hall as if searching for an escape. Harry's brow furrowed.

"You don't want to come with us?" he asked, a little disappointed. He liked Lupin thus far, and it wasn't often that he warmed to someone so quickly. When it came to people, Harry's instincts were usually right, and his instincts were currently telling him that Lupin would make a great ally or friend.

"You want me to come?" Lupin asked cautiously, with a bit of surprise thrown in.

"Why wouldn't I?" Harry was genuinely confused, now, and he wasn't the only one - Lupin's expression had gone from wary to befuddled.

Black sighed loudly, drawing their attention back to him. "Clearly, Moony, he doesn't care if you're a werewolf. Harry, ignore Remus, he's being an idiot again."

Lupin went a light red, and Harry stifled a laugh. "He's right, you know," he told the werewolf. "I really don't care. I mean, it's not like you can control it, right? And I highly doubt you're the type to let yourself go on the full moon and hunt down innocents."

"Not exactly, no," Lupin said, dazed. Black chuckled.

"Right then," Harry said, satisfied that he'd laid Lupin's fears to rest. "You aren't about to attack me, and I'm not about to pull out any silver objects and wave them around in your general direction, so we should get along just fine. Now, where's this kitchen you were talking about? I'm a growing boy, you know, and I need all the food I can get."

They left, and all thoughts of the warded door slipped from Harry's mind.

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_The holy passion of friendship is so sweet and steady and loyal and enduring in nature that it will last through a whole lifetime, if not asked to lend money. _

_-Mark Twain_

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An hour or so later, a completely satiated Harry Potter stumbled into his rooms, beaming with satisfaction. Sirius and Remus, as they'd convinced him to call them, were both pretty cool. Harry thought he'd actually learn to get along with his godfather, despite the man's disconcerting habit of comparing him to his father.

Remus had gradually relaxed once he'd realized that Harry really didn't care about him being a werewolf. He'd even started talking about some of the Ministry werewolf regulations, which had all three of them swearing in minutes.

All right, so Remus didn't swear, but Sirius and Harry most certainly did. Remus just looked on with a contrived disapproving frown.

Feeling disturbingly happy, Harry glanced over at his bed and had to bite back a snicker when he saw Leander sprawled out fast asleep, mouth opening and closing as he dreamed about feeding.

Vampires. All they thought about was food.

Harry, in an unusually playful mood, crept over to the vampire's side, angled his head so his lips were two inches from Leander's ear, and bellowed, "RISE AND SHINE!" He jumped back just in time to miss being hit by the vampire's flailing limbs, and cracked up completely when his old friend tumbled out of the bed and onto the floor in a mess of sheets and blankets.

"What?" Leander asked blearily, looking around. "What's going on? Where'd the neck go?"

It took the vampire a few more moments to realize what had happened, and then he leapt and tacked Harry to the floor. They wrestled about for a few minutes until the vampire, who, as always, had the upper hand, sat back and said, "We should get going soon."

"Not going to ask how my explorations went?" Harry asked, pasting an expression of mock hurt on his face.

"How did your explorations go, Harry?" Leander sing-songed.

"Great. I found the kitchens - or rather, Remus and Sirius showed me-"

"Remus?" Leander repeated sharply.

"Oh, get over yourself," Harry said, clambering to his feet and straightening his clothes out. "Just because he's a werewolf-"

"You know our two races don't get along," Leander muttered, standing with a fluid grace that Harry secretly envied.

"Yes, and it's dumb as hell that you don't," Harry retorted. "Just because a werewolf insulted a vampire two centuries ago-"

"One hundred and eighty three years," Leander corrected sullenly.

"Oh, so very sorry. Just because a werewolf insulted a vampire _one hundred and eighty three years_ ago at a dinner party hosted by a bloody _hag _doesn't mean you and Remus can't get along just fine. The whole feud is beyond stupid, anyway."

"It's much more complicated than that," Leander protested, arms crossed over his chest.

"Oh yeah? How?" Harry asked challengingly.

Leander remained silent, glowering darkly at his young friend.

"And I thought _I_ had pride problems," Harry said with a smirk.

"Let's just go," Leander sighed in defeat.

"Finally, you speak sense," Harry said smugly. Leander glared venomously, but Harry just shrugged it off. "I want to find Dumbledore first - he might have a message for the centaurs, and besides, he asked us to check in before we left."

"Obeying orders now, Potter?" Leander mocked.

Harry's face hardened. "There's a point where rebellion is just cowardice, Leander. I've made my point already, and Dumbledore didn't order me to come to him, he _asked_. I'm being polite, not subservient."

"Since when are you polite?" Leander demanded skeptically.

"Since I decided that Dumbledore isn't all that bad, and that there's no use in being an arse to him," Harry shot back. "Now come on; I want to get this over with."

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_THE DOCTOR: Anybody remotely interesting is mad, in some way or another. _

_-Doctor Who _

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Albus was pleasantly surprised when, at around two in the afternoon, Minerva escorted Harry and Leander into his office. The woman was perceptive enough to see that Albus wished to talk to the two newcomers alone, and left after reluctantly taking a lemon drop.

"I just wanted to let you know we're leaving soon," Harry said after declining the offer of a candy. "And I was wondering if you had any messages you'd like me to give to the centaurs while we're in the forest."

Albus, sharp-eyed as he was, noted Leander's discontent, and he was willing to bet that the vampire hadn't wanted to come see him. It was a relief, actually, knowing the prince's feelings; Harry had still come, after all, which meant that he wasn't overly swayed by Leander's opinion.

"A message?" he repeated thoughtfully. "Only that Madam Umbridge will be returning this year, and that they should take care in not offending her."

"Umbridge?" Harry repeated curiously, sitting down in one of the red and silver armchairs Albus favored. Leander remained standing near the door, arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face.

"Dolores Umbridge, the Defense Professor and Hogwarts High Inquisitor," Albus said neutrally, not letting his distaste show through. "She was appointed to the position by the Minister himself, soon after rumors of Voldemort's return began circulating. She spent most of last year trying to squash the rumors, but the Ministry was forced to recognize them as truth a few months before the end of the school year. I suspect Dolores will now spend her time ensuring the students are loyal to the Ministry rather than the Order."

"You said she's the High Inquisitor," Harry said intently. "What does that mean, exactly?"

"As Inquisitor, she has almost unlimited power over the school," Albus explained grimly. "Last year, she took it upon herself to issue several edicts restricting the activities of both students and teachers; she attempted to have Rubeus Hagrid, our gamekeeper and Care of Magical Creatures professor, arrested, and fired the Divinations professor. Hagrid has since been restored to his gamekeeping duties, but is no longer a professor. Firenze, a centaur, will be teaching Divinations this year."

"A centaur?" Harry repeated, surprised.

"Yes. It caused some trouble with his herd, unfortunately. Firenze is banned from returning to the forest, and the rest of us have been threatened with death should we intrude," Albus said. "That is why many of us were startled when we heard you had an appointment with them."

"They can do that?" Harry asked, frowning thoughtfully. "Bar you from the forest, I mean? It's on Hogwarts grounds, after all."

"Quite true, but the forest has always belonged to the creatures inhabiting it, not Hogwarts."

"Huh. Well, I'll tell them about Umbridge, and see if I can't get them to go easy on- Firenze, was it?"

"Firenze, yes, and I'm sure he'll be most grateful." In truth, Albus hadn't even thought of asking Harry to intercede on Firenze's behalf, and once more had to revise his opinion of the youth.

"Right. Well, we're off, then. If we're not back by morning-"

"Don't be melodramatic," Leander interrupted shortly.

Albus didn't miss the irritated look Harry sent Leander's way, or the vampire's responding sneer. Trouble in paradise, it seemed. Albus just hoped this wouldn't affect Leander's ability to defend the boy.

"I was going to say," Harry snapped, "that if we aren't back by morning, not to come after us, as we might stay overnight if the discussions run too long. Or is that too _melodramatic _for you, Leander?"

"My apologies," the prince said stiffly, thin-lipped and angry. "I understandably hadn't expected you to show any sense."

"Is there a problem?" Albus asked, glancing between the two of them. Leander snarled silently and stalked from the room, while Harry groaned and slouched down in the armchair.

"Sorry about that," the boy said with an exasperated frown. "Leander's been pissy all day, and he thinks I'm being too...I dunno, too eager to please? Which is ridiculous- all I'm doing is showing a bit of consideration. And true, that is unusual for me, but times are changing. I'm not on the streets anymore, and I can't keep acting like I am."

Albus studied the boy carefully, mulling over his words. "You're very wise for your age, Harry," he finally said.

"Not really," Harry denied. "I'm just smart enough to know that a person has to change as his circumstances change."

Albus decided to take advantage of Harry's unusual candidness. "I have some questions myself, Harry. For one, how did you get those wands?"

Harry's face lit with a sort of devilish glee. "I got the one I use everyday from a wand-maker in Knockturn Alley. He gave it to me in return for a favor."

"A favor?" Albus repeated curiously.

"I stole something for him," Harry replied with a shrug. "From a man named Borgin. It was easy, too; you'd think someone like him would take more precautions." The boy didn't seem at all bothered by admitting to criminal activity.

"And the second wand?" Albus asked, unsure that he really wanted to know.

"I bought that one from an Italian wandmaker - Alberto Violante. That's the wand I use for dueling; it's better for Defense, and it's got a bit more power to it."

"How is it that neither wand was registered?" Albus wanted to know. "Wandmakers are required by law to place the proper binding and tracking charms on each wand they sell to underaged wizards and witches."

"Bribery can go a long way," Harry said dryly, eying him cautiously. "Is there anything else you want to know?"

Albus decided not to push his luck, not yet. "No, that will be all for now," he assured his ward, even as he wondered if a certain Ollivanders wand might come in handy for Harry. No use having the boy carry around three wands, but one could always be held in reserve...

Harry shifted in his seat, glancing longingly at the door. "I should go calm Leander down, or he'll be a real annoyance all day," he said abruptly. "I'll see you at dinner, with any luck."

"Very well. And stay safe, Harry," Albus said seriously.

Harry flashed him a smile, the first real one Albus had seen from the boy. It transformed the boy's face, and for a moment he looked innocent and young, as a teenager ought to look. Then the smile melted away until it was mostly gone, with only traces of it still lingering at the corners of Harry's lips.

"I'll be fine. Don't worry so much, Headmaster."

"Someone has to," Albus murmured once Harry left the room. "And better me than you, my boy."

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_A man gazing on the stars is proverbially at the mercy of the puddles on the road. _

_-Alexander Smith_

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Harry and Leander only got a few meters into the forest before they were met by a centaur, one with reddish hair and a mournful face. "Ronan," Leander said coolly, nodding to the creature. Harry wasn't surprised by Leander's less than gracious attitude- the vampire didn't much like centaurs, and said they were all fools who'd be better served by taking notice of what was going on around them, rather than what the stars supposedly said.

"Prince Leander," Ronan greeted them solemnly. "And Harry Potter."

"That's me," Harry agreed dryly. Leander elbowed him hard in the ribs, but Ronan only stared at him blankly for a few seconds.

"Follow me," the centaur said without the slightest hint of enthusiasm. "You are to meet with the elders."

"I thought all centaurs were pretty _eld_," Harry remarked to Leander as they followed Ronan through the forest, ducking low-hanging branches and edging around bushes that would like nothing more than to devour them alive.

Leander spared him a disdainful glance- he still wasn't particularly happy with Harry's newfound manners- and said, "Centaurs live up to four or five centuries, yes, but there are no doubt a few foals, as well as several younger centaurs, in the forest. The elders are generally those in or nearing their fifth century, close to death."

Harry frowned. "What, so it's rule by the senile?"

Ronan harrumphed loudly, letting them know he'd heard Harry's rather thoughtless comment. Leander sighed and shook his head, glaring at the young Potter.

"I'm not cut out as a diplomat," Harry defended himself, tripping over a tree root and only remaining upright by grabbing a vine from the branches of the selfsame tree. "You know that perfectly well."

"Unfortunately," Leander agreed. "And the elders do not rule; they merely advise. The leader of the centaurs is elected every twenty-five years, and is often only barely past his or her first century of life. The only real power the elders have is in deciding alliances, which is why we're being taken to see them rather than the herd leader. Really, Harry, you've met centaurs before. You should know at least some of this."

Harry pulled a face. "I've never had any interest in politics, and I was more concerned with sampling the centaurs' alcohol and weaponry back then than I was in learning their culture."

"'Back then'?" Leander drawled.

"All right, so I still am," Harry said without shame. "Who cares about politics and culture when you can get drunk and start a fight?"

"And here I thought you might turn out to be a Slytherin," Leander lamented. "But that mentality has Gryffindor written all over it."

"Slytherin's for the cunning and ambitious, not necessarily those with aspirations of political power," Harry retorted. "I've certainly got ambitions enough, and I'm as cunning as they come."

"And modest, too."

Up ahead, Ronan snorted. Harry frowned at the centaur's back, wondering why everyone felt the need to laugh at him.

"Are we there yet?" he asked, rather than berate the centaur for eavedropping. Ronan couldn't help but overhear, really, not when the two of them were speaking so loudly and so close by.

"Patience, Harry Potter," Ronan advised testily.

"Is that a yes or a no?"

"I thought you were going to be polite from now on," Leander recalled sarcastically, as Ronan paused long enough to turn his head and shoot Harry a glare.

"I'm easing into the well-mannered thing," Harry explained. "It's hard, not being rude."

"I'm sure."

"We're here," Ronan interrupted their sardonic exchange, stopping at the edge of a large clearing cut through by a stream. Several aging centaurs were gathered on both sides of the stream, all of them looking straight at the human boy.

"And this isn't creepy at all," Harry muttered.

"Behave," Leander hissed as the two of them stepped past Ronan, into the clearing. "If you offend them, I swear to all the gods I'll break your scrawny neck."

"Welcome, Prince Leander, son of Matthias," a solemn-looking gray-beared centaur intoned. "Welcome, Harry Potter, son of James."

"Hi," Harry offered. "Great to be here."

Leander gave a pained groan. This was going to be hell.

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_Aziraphale patted Crowley on the back. "We seem to have survived," he said. "Just imagine how terrible it might have been if we'd been at all competent." _

_-Terry Pratchett, Neil Gaiman_

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The centaurs liked Harry.

Leander didn't get it. Harry was, on the best of days, straightforward, blunt, and bordering on rude. And Leander knew for a fact that even if Harry was aware of the proper protocal for a meeting with centaur elders, he'd ignore it.

Centaurs _hated_ that kind of person...but they liked Harry. The brat was just too charismatic for his own good.

They'd been in the clearing for bordering on three hours, and Leander didn't have a clue what was going on. After the initial greetings and a few minutes' talk of the war and Umbridge, the centaurs had taken Harry off to one side, leaving Leander all alone but for a gloomy Ronan. Ronan, who was about as exciting and bright as a tree trunk, didn't make for good company.

All Leander could tell was that the centaurs seemed to think Harry was absolutely wonderful. Some of them were actually laughing, and centaurs, in Leander's experience, never laughed. Harry himself looked like he was having a grand old time, grinning and gesturing wildly. Shouldn't he be talking about serious matters, like Voldemort and the defense of Hogwarts?

Finally, the group finished talking and headed back towards the irritable vampire, Harry joking with an old female as they walked. Leander stood, brushing off the seat of his trousers and noting that he had grass stains on his tan clothes.

That's it, he decided, from now on I'm sticking with the traditional black, and screw modernism.

"Prince of the vampires," one of the elderly centaurs said, "we thank you for your patience. We will of course aid in protecting Harry Potter, as well as the school Hogwarts. Our active participation in the war is another matter entirely, but I feel confident that Magorian will see sense and throw our herd's full support behind Harry's cause. Harry himself can tell you the rest later."

"Of course," Leander said with a tiny bow, not wanting to risk what Harry had gained.

The female Harry had been talking to nodded towards the youngest centaur present. "Ronan, guide them out of the forest and then return to the main herd as soon as possible. Mars has been bright recently, and we wish to hear your perspective on Venus' dimming."

Ronan nodded respectfully, and Leander watched in shock as a few of the elders leaned down to hug Harry in farewell. This wasn't going at all according to plan, even if the results seemed about right. Centaurs didn't speak plainly, and they certainly didn't _hug!_ Had Harry somehow enchanted them?

He didn't think the boy knew the proper spells, but then again, Harry wasn't the most forthcoming of people, and who could say what the lad got up to when Leander wasn't around to keep him out of trouble?

Harry told him the rest as they made their way back to Hogwarts. "They've agreed to hold a hearing for Firenze, and Danae- one of the oldest of the elders- said that he'd probably be welcomed back to the herd, and named the official ambassador between Hogwarts and the Forbidden Forest centaurs. They weren't too happy that this Umbridge woman will be coming back, and said they wouldn't have anything to do with her. All their dealings will either be with me or Dumbledore.

"Danae and Phelan said they'd be contacting a few other herds hidden in Britain, to see if they'll help with the war. And they've pretty much guaranteed Magorian's cooperation- he's Danae's son, you know, and she's taken a bit of a shine to me. They won't help us fight unless Hogwarts itself is attacked and the herd is put in danger, but they'll offer advice and help heal the wounded."

"Merlin's balls," Leander said in awe, "how on earth did you get them to agree to all that? I was hoping for their defense of the castle, at most! But they've practically promised a full alliance against Voldemort!"

Harry shrugged. "I dunno what I did. I just acted like I always do. I think I made a few of them angry, actually, but they got over it after Danae snapped at them. Most of them thought it was really funny when I told them about the other centaurs I've met- I got the feeling the two herds are rivals, because when I told them how the leader was drunk, they all started laughing."

Leander merely gazed sternly at Harry, who squirmed.

"All right," the boy finally broke down, flushing. "I might have used a charisma charm. Or two."

"Harry-"

"Well, it worked, didn't it?" Harry asked defensively, before Leander could scold him. "And it's not cheating if it works and no one catches you."

"Only you, Harry," was all Leander could think to say in response. "Only you."

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REVIEW RESPONSES (should I stop doing these, or post them elsewhere? And many apologies if I leave someone out):

**Neqs:** Snicker...I was ranting the other day to Nimbirosa about the godawful grammar and numerous spelling mistakes in so many of the stories on this site. I mean, we have spell check for a reason, people. And it never hurts to reread your writings. I'm not saying I never make mistakes, 'cause that would be a blatant lie, but at least I do my best to minimize errors.

**borne-shadow-childe:** No worries about the Ginevra thing - thanks to the HP Lexicon, I do indeed know her name. Really irritates me when people call her Ginerva, though. And no, I haven't spontaneously combusted; I understand your trepidation, however, as whenever I find an author I like they abruptly stop writing.

**Nimbirosa:** I do enjoy putting the previews in. Grins. And honestly - how you can be female and NOT lust after Jack Sparrow/Johnny Depp, I don't know.

**IndiaInk:** I'm surprised by how much you folks all seem to like Leander. Huh. And yes, someone did ask if it was a dodo, but I'm almost positive they were joking. Grins. The beauty of sarcasm? You flatter me outrageously, but I'm not complaining.

**Disco Jesus:** I haven't got too much patience for unrequited love, to tell the truth. It always gets me depressed. Very good question about the blood thing - I actually hadn't really considered the protections. Zabini will be around, but he won't have much of a part. Ooh, Queen...and another one bites the dust. Chow (I can butcher foreign languages too)!

**Akuma-sama:** I'm glad I contributed to your very, very good day. Grins. Glad you're beginning to warm to Leander. And sure, have all the ribbon-wrapped Lilys you want, if it'll get you to keep reviewing. (I'm a wanton feedback slut.)

**Eaiva le Fay:** Ah yes, unrequited love. Harry's completely clueless, of course, and Leander's gonna be hellish when HP starts dating the Female Canon Character. I don't think Ron and Hermione would ever have become friends without Harry charging into the girls bathroom to rescue the fair damsel from death by troll bogies.

**VividScribbler:** Which messageboard? And you flatter me. I like it. Grins. Yes, I was a Buffy fan, up until all the SpikeBuffy action - not that I'm against Spuffy, but that season (six?) was just so...eurgh. I mean, there were plot holes you could drive a truck through. The only reason I watched was to catch glimpses of Spike's naked body. Leers.

**ZZ9PluralZAlpha:** Sorry, I nixed the tiger thing up above. Good try, though. And Ron and Hermione...well, they definitely aren't friends, and I'm not sure if they ever will be, at least in this story. And threatening to set Nim on me...you are an evil, evil person.

Thanks also to: **King Dimension, Shyleigh3, Bobboky, E.A.V, uNople, Surarrin, Lily EvansPotterBlack** (people really seem to like Leander)**, Night-Owl123, Trunks2598, queen of nothing with sugar on top, RiverSong DreamShadow** (I did enjoy the hormonal teenagers line)**, ak-alterego, Cat, nightwisp, Mistress of Hogwarts** (I'm afraid I lied. I'm keeping Cap'n Sparrow to myself)**, Shadowed Rains** (didn't review last chapter? How rude)**, Julie Long, athenakitty** (I'm almost positive he isn't a singing chicken)**, full moon waning, D3, humg321, mr.voldemort, MissMoo** (hope you got my email, and thanks for the review!)**, rinariku, SiLvErFaTeD, bandgsecurtiyaw, Katy-ster687** (bring me...a shrubbery!)**, SheWolfe7** (hmm...maybe a side story?)**, Nytingale, StaringStars, Sierra-Falls, Dumbledore, MysterioX, anonymous, Dirbatua, Rachel A. Prongs** (go me. Grins)**, Jarno, Irin, Jennifer, Lady11Occult, Talkin' of normality **(don't give up hope)**, GreyGranian** (I made you cough? I feel honored)**, Charmina, Talons, Tondo-the-half-elf**, **Shyleigh3, huh?** (er...why would Voldie be good?)**, Shade, Treck, Grey Malwell, Circe Visigoth, vila-pv, lena, HecateDeMort, RAINonSKY, Jack Sparrow** (make it three crates and we might have a deal)**, Chaos-Empersonified** (don't worry - the road to lurrrve will be long, arduous, and full of embarrassment)**, Air Pirate 96, Earendil'sgirl, NoAlias, A-man, Himura Seraphina** (Leander won't like the FCC; I adore the twins, Bill, and Charlie)**, Goddess of Muffins, Artemis1000** (Harry saving Leander wasn't very heroic...well, you'll find out eventually)**, japanese-jew** (snicker...no, Harry's 100 male)**, stargirl, Crissy Potter, chlo, Lil Ole Me 97, JJBP, methoslover, Jepoliant, Shadoface **(mmm...Jack Sparrow...eyes glaze over)**, ERMonkey Burner of Cookies** (You prefer Will? How could you!)**, Cap'n BlackRose, sphinx12, mhs02, Bob the cow **(a canon character is one from the books, such as Harry, Snape, etc)**, jay** (schedule?)**, crazy-lil-nae-nae, BDD, Raskanii, reading and rereading**(school won't start for a couple more chapters)**, Silver Pard, ASquealinfgYaoiFanGirl, insanechildfanfic, HazelWolf** (never read 'Potter')**, LunarBard, O.o, Alexa W., Cherrysinger** (it won't be _too_ humiliating)**, yoroshiku** (I can't believe people actually _want _Harry to be with an OC)**, Queen Victoria, spotless-mind** (I adore Pratchett. I want to go to Discworld when I die)**, KittenRebecca** (fear not, Harry, Ron, and Hermione will loathe each other)**, Jennifer, Nathalia Potter, x revolution, tweeny-weeny, JDZ, gourry-gabriev610, futago akuma-tenshi01, Sunflower, missfictionlover, Isabel Evelyn, justmehere, Lady Urguentha, tweeny-weeny** (I can guarantee that Harry won't become a vampire)**, whereswardo10, WJENKSREADER, azntgr01, Star Eyed Unicorn** (glad you like)**, Quillian, The-Unknown-Factor, Bernard and Spinach** (Harry is definitely supposed to come across as an ass)**, hmmm, Kaaera, **and** webweaver.**

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I have a LiveJournal! www . livejournal . com / users / opalish /

(delete the spaces, obviously)


	8. Chapter Seven: That's Why the Ferrets Al...

Many many many thanks to **Nimbirosa** and **M'cha Araem**, my fantabulous betas. Read their fics and review them. Now. And then come back and read and review this. -cracks whip- Both of them are on my favorite authors list, by the by, so just go there and clickity-click on the proper links.

NOTE: I wasn't fishing for compliments last chapter - I was just trying to say that this isn't a fic to take seriously. I don't think Invictus is bad, but neither is it extraordinary. I'm being honest, not trying to gain FlatterMe!Feedback. Also, while I love getting positive reviews and am glad I've apparently written an enjoyable, fun fic, I'd also like to get constructive criticism. That's the whole point of fanfic, after all - having fun and becoming a better writer. Constructive criticism can only help. Of course, the people I critique rarely see things that way. Maybe because I'm utterly tactless. Sigh.

**Due to several factors, I won't be able to update as regularly as I have in the past. I hope not to take longer than two or three weeks between updates, but I can't be sure. My deepest apologies.**

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**Chapter Seven: That's Why the Ferrets All Sing, Malfoy Is Our King**

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_TEACHER: Explain Newton's First Law of Motion in your own words._

_CALVIN: Yakka foob mog. Grug pubbawup zink wattoom gazork. Chumble spuzz. _

_-Bill Watterson_

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The next few days were possibly the most hectic of Harry's life.

Firenze disappeared into the forest about an hour after Harry and Leander's triumphant return to Hogwarts. The centaur returned in the morning with the extremely good news that Magorian had agreed to a full alliance against Voldemort.

"You must be some diplomat, kid," Tonks said admiringly.

Leander had to fight the urge to gag. It wasn't bloody _fair_! He was the one to memorize all the centaurs' laws; he was the one who knew the proper protocol and procedures, and Harry, the ignorant little twerp, was the one to win them over by using a charisma charm!

After that, Harry, on average, spent two or three hours a day closeted with Magorian, Danae, Firenze, and Dumbledore, coming up with a suitable treaty agreement. After the first meeting, Dumbledore decided to let Harry do most of the talking- the boy got along eerily well with both Danae, who seemed to have adopted him, and Magorian, who apparently felt that Harry had a truly wonderful sense of humor.

Dumbledore didn't understand exactly why Harry connected so well with the creatures, but suspected it had something to do with the way Harry seemed to see everyone, from house elves to vampires, as his equals. He was moody and bad-tempered and crude to everyone alike.

Even if he was trying - mostly unsuccessfully - to be well-mannered.

When Harry wasn't with the centaurs, he was either worrying about his snake spies - though really, they weren't due back for a while yet - or being tested by the professors to determine his magical knowledge and ability. "We need to know you are in fact capable of taking NEWT level classes," Dumbledore told him. "Normally, your OWL results would tell us your skill level, but you've never taken the OWLs, correct?"

Harry shook his head. "Never saw the need."

"Well, you'll have to take them at the end of the year with the fifth years," Dumbledore said with a smile. "It is wizarding law that a person cannot take their NEWTs unless they have taken their OWLs. Fortunately, this won't delay your education."

Herbology with Sprout came first, and went badly...or rather, not so much badly as inconsistently. As Pomona told Harry, he was missing some very basic knowledge, first year stuff that was necessary for any wizard to become a competent Herbologist. On the other hand, he knew a bit about some of the rarer and more exotic plants from his travels, plants that weren't even taught to the seventh years. This fortunately helped to make up for his deficiencies.

Sprout and Dumbledore arranged to have him begin Herbology tutorials once the testing was over. They were both confident he'd be caught up by the time school started.

"And if you aren't caught up, I'll just find you a good tutor to help you along for a while," the cheerful, squat woman assured Harry. "You'll never be a Master Herbologist, I'm afraid - you haven't got the right touch - but I imagine you'll do well enough on your OWLs and NEWTs as long as you study."

Astronomy was fairly easy. Harry had been all over the world, after all, and had always enjoyed learning local myths and legends about various constellations. Sinistra was impressed by his mastery of the subject, and didn't hesitate to tell him so.

"I don't often meet a student with a mind for detail like yours," the tall, elegant witch said approvingly. "You could be more focused - I've noticed you're easily distracted - but you're ahead of your year mates as it is."

History of Magic, on the other hand, was hell. Harry knew next to nothing about goblin rebellions, which seemed to make up most of the Hogwarts history curriculum. Whenever he'd spoken with goblins in the past, it hadn't been about Slashnack the Scary, but about money and...well, money.

"I'm afraid you won't make it into the NEWT class, Mister Porter," Binns told him. "You're on a second year level."

Harry complained at length to Sirius and Remus about this assessment of his skills. "If he'd wanted to know anything _other_ than the stupid goblin rebellions, I'd have done all right," he said petulantly.

Of course, Remus then had to question him at length about various other events in wizarding history. After listening to Harry stutter out invented names and dates, Remus announced, "You're right, you do know more than a second year. In fact, I'd say you're on a third year level."

Oddly enough, this didn't appease the boy.

"Who needs history anyways," he grouched. "It's all the same. Someone starts a war, there's lots of blood, gore and death, and then a treaty's made and then broken before the ink dries. All that changes are the names of the people involved."

Remus was predictably horrified. "History is extremely important," he cried, before launching into a lecture that lasted nearly two hours. Harry and Sirius retained their sanity by silently mocking the werewolf whenever he wasn't looking. "You two are worse than first years," Remus said when he finally noticed that they were passing notes and pulling grotesque faces behind his back.

Fortunately, his failure at History didn't rattle Harry's confidence, so Transfiguration went well. Harry wasn't particularly gifted when it came to that discipline, but he'd worked hard at it over the years and knew he'd acquitted himself well to McGonagall. It didn't hurt that Sirius had shown Harry a few tricks of the trade in the days before the Transfiguration test: little wrist movements that made the magic come easier and the like.

"Very good, Mister Potter," McGonagall said, pleased. "You're on par with young Miss Granger, I'd say, at least as far as knowledge goes. You're not a natural like your father, but you're good enough to be going on with- if you wanted, you could probably even join the seventh year class, though I'd advise against it."

"Keep your strengths hidden?" Harry asked with an arched eyebrow. McGonagall nodded. "How very Slytherin of you, professor."

"Tell anyone and I will maim you, Potter," McGonagall warned, the corners of her lips curled upwards. "And that was a most impressive Animagus transformation."

"Why, shucks," Harry said dryly, "you're making me blush."

McGonagall chuckled- she'd softened towards Harry over the last few days, enough so that he was no longer frightened of her in the least. Which was all to the good, as Remus and Sirius, not to mention Tonks and Leander, had thought his McGonagaphobia was screamingly funny.

"Just as a matter of curiosity," the Head of Gryffindor asked, sitting at her desk and leaving Harry to stand like a fool in the middle of the mostly empty classroom, "how long did it take you to become an Animagus?"

"Two and a half years," Harry replied honestly, "but I had help."

"Help, Potter?" McGonagall repeated sharply.

"You'd be surprised at just how many unregistered Animagi are out there," Harry said, trying to sound mysterious and superior but coming off as a jackass instead.

"You will find, Potter, that I am very rarely surprised, and that I have no time for games."

"Gee, you must be the life of the party."

It was a testament to McGonagall's fondness for him that he escaped with his life.

Charms went more smoothly - Harry did have a natural skill with them, a skill lacking in most other subjects. Flitwick excitedly informed him that he was on a post-graduate level. "I'll stay with the sixth years, thanks," Harry said, refusing the gnome's offer of private tutorials. McGonagall had the right idea - the fewer people who knew how advanced he was, the better.

Flitwick was disappointed, but the two of them came to a compromise. The diminutive Charms professor would supply Harry with advanced Charms books throughout the year, which Harry promised to study. "Can't let talent go to waste," the cheerful little man said with a smile.

Care of Magical Creatures with Grubbly-Plank was just as easy. He'd been all over and had met all sorts of creatures in his time, and he was fairly good with most magical animals.

"If you took the NEWT for my class right now," Grubbly-Plank said matter-of-factly, "I'm positive you'd pass with at least an E. There's really no point in you bothering to take Care of Magical Creatures this year, not if you're looking for a challenge."

"Comes of having a werewolf and a grim for godfathers," Sirius later said in satisfaction, taking all the credit for Harry's knowledge - never mind that they'd only just met days before.

"You aren't a grim, Sirius, you're a regular dog," Harry replied, exasperated.

"A dog with delusions of grandeur," Remus added.

"Ideas above his station."

"Aspirations of grimhood."

Sirius growled. "Bugger off, both of you."

Arithmancy went well, as did Ancient Runes. Harry was actually pretty good with Arithmancy; he'd always had a knack for numbers, and Arithmancy was basically a twisted form of mathematics. He was all right in Ancient Runes, but nothing special.

Divinations, he failed.

Horribly.

Of course, that might have had something to do with the fact that he'd been tested not by Firenze, the proper Divinations teacher, but by Trelawney, who still lurked in her incense-clogged tower despite having been fired the year before. Firenze had gone off to the forest again, and Trelawney had volunteered her services in his absence.

Within minutes, Harry came to the conclusion that he hated her. No...worse than hate. He _loathed _her.

So, after pretending to read her palm, he informed her that all the incense she used was going to eventually kill her, along with anyone stupid enough to spend time in her rooms. She hadn't been particularly pleased with him.

"You clearly don't have the Sight," she snapped, putting him in mind of an enraged butterfly.

"Thank Merlin for that," he'd replied, glaring. "I'd hate to end up like you."

Of course, the confrontation was common knowledge by lunchtime. Leander just sighed and told Harry that he probably shouldn't insult any of the other professors. McGonagall gave him a biscuit.

Dumbledore suggested Harry retake the test with Firenze, once the centaur returned, but the teenager refused. He'd never set much store in Divination anyway, and was absolutely hopeless at predictions and fortunes and other such rot.

Potions with Snape was...interesting, to say the least.

"I assume," the greasy-haired man sneered the moment Harry entered the dungeon classroom, "that you have at least some rudimentary knowledge of Potions-making?"

Harry merely nodded. Remus and Sirius had told him all about the Marauders, as well as their 'rivalry' with Severus Snape. Harry was good at reading between the lines, and suspected there had been some bullying on the Marauders' part. If he was right, then Snape, being a Slytherin and an insufferable asshole, would probably use him to get revenge.

"Name the most advanced Potions you have brewed," Snape ordered, glaring. As with Dumbledore, Harry got the feeling that Snape could almost read his mind by looking in his eyes. It was, to say the least, creepy as hell.

"Wolfsbane," Harry said calmly. "And Veritaserum."

Snape's eyes narrowed. "Veritaserum is a restricted brew."

Harry shrugged. "It sells well on the black market."

Something- a hint of amusement, possibly- flickered across Snape's face. "You supply the black market with illegal Veritaserum?"

"Only when I can get my hands on the ingredients without selling a limb to pay for them. It's a good profit, anyway, and Veritaserum is almost impossible to trace back to the maker."

"And the Wolfsbane?"

"Remus isn't the only werewolf I know," Harry said coolly.

Snape's upper lip curled. "You should be more discerning when it comes to your acquaintances, Potter."

"It can't hurt to have allies in unexpected places," Harry pointed out.

Snape snorted. "Perhaps. Now, recite the process of making Polyjuice."

More than four hours later, the exam was finally done, and Harry was ready to thank Chance on bended knee for forcing him to learn Potions. Snape was bad enough now, when Harry had an advanced understanding of the subject- he'd be horrible if Harry were simply on par with his classmates.

Truth be told, Harry didn't feel that his magical level was much to brag about. Sure, he was ahead of others his age- but only because he'd been teaching himself magic, and finding others to teach him, since he was just eight years old. It wasn't natural talent that set him apart, really, but a lot of hard work and even more time. The only subject he was really and truly gifted in was Defense.

As Umbridge hadn't yet arrived, Dumbledore and Remus were the ones to test him in that subject. They asked him a few questions, which he answered easily, then had him face off against Remus for a duel.

It lasted two minutes. Harry was impressed- usually he won in less than a full minute. Admittedly, this was due to cheating on his part, but still...

Remus, currently bound, gagged, and hanging upside-down from the ceiling of the Defense classroom, groaned. Harry grinned, pleased with himself and amused by his sort-of-godfather's plight.

"Most impressive," Dumbledore remarked, blue eyes sparkling. "I'd say you qualify, Harry. Remus?"

The werewolf gave a muffled grunt of agreement.

"What I wouldn't give for a camera," Harry sighed wistfully as Remus swayed gently above him. Dumbledore laughed.

"So, Harry, you qualify for Herbology, Astronomy, Transfigurations, Charms, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, Potions, Care of Magical Creatures, and Defense. Most students take five courses; those looking for a Ministry job normally take six."

"Dnn!" Remus said, wriggling. His face was getting rather red.

Harry shrugged. "I'll be taking Transfigurations, Charms, Potions, Defense, Herbology, and Arithmancy," he listed. "I plan on taking the NEWT exams in Care of Magical Creatures and Astronomy as well."

"Six courses, and two more exams. If you do well, which I've no doubt you will, you'll be swamped in job offers."

That was when a bickering Snape and Sirius strode in, and Harry knew Remus would never, ever forgive him.

"Why is Moony on the ceiling?" Sirius asked intelligently, brought up short by the sight, while Snape's face split in a wicked smirk.

"Lng mrr dnn!" Remus ordered.

"What?" Harry asked, as Sirius snickered.

"Nn shrd, lmn mrr dnn!"

"Harry and Remus dueled," Dumbledore explained to the two newcomers. "Harry won."

Sirius looked impressed. Snape gazed at Harry appraisingly.

"Why are you two here?" Harry asked, as Remus began to struggle against his bonds above them.

"Hmm?" Sirius asked, gazing at his bound friend with a grin. "Oh, that. We have visitors."

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

_If you want to know what God thinks of money, just look at the people he gave it to. _

_-Dorothy Parker_

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

The visitors turned out to be the Malfoys, sitting calm as anything in the Headmaster's office. For some reason, they had luggage with them.

Harry stared. Remus stared. Snape frowned. Dumbledore's eyebrows rose to his receding hairline.

Sirius was currently stunned and bound in the Defense classroom, a result of teasing Remus about losing a duel with a sixth year.

"Lucius. Narcissa. Draco," the Headmaster greeted the visitors neutrally.

Draco caught Harry's eye and winked. Harry's brow furrowed, but the blond boy just smirked.

Snape, who was the only adult to see the silent exchange, frowned more deeply. Draco knew Harry? This could be...difficult.

"Headmaster," Lucius greeted with a disdainful sneer. Narcissa's upper lip curled.

"What brings you to Hogwarts?"

Everyone knew Lucius was a Death Eater- or at least, everyone with half a brain. Unfortunately, there was no proof, and Fudge refused to belief someone with as much money and influence as Lucius Malfoy could be evil.

"Narcissa and I will soon be leaving the country on a business trip," Lucius said coldly. "Draco has nowhere to stay- nowhere as safe as Hogwarts, in these times of strife."

Harry knew right away what was going on. Malfoy wasn't an idiot; he'd have read the articles on Harry's reappearance and figured out that the Boy Who Lived was at Hogwarts. And now Lucius was planting his own spy, probably in an effort to discredit Snape and gain recognition from Voldemort.

Clever enough, Harry supposed, but it wouldn't work. Draco wasn't nearly as loyal a Malfoy as his parents thought.

They'd first met years ago, when both of them were eight. Harry had been begging in Knockturn Alley, as well as picking the occasional pocket. Lucius and Draco had come striding down the cobbled street and into a nearby shop, a house elf scurrying behind.

Harry hadn't cared much at first, but then Draco exited the shop alone, scowling and muttering, "Adult business indeed." The house elf was with him, clearly for protection purposes.

Harry had taken an instant dislike to the boy, with his clean, expensive clothes and perfectly slicked hair. So he'd scooped up a pebble and threw it across the street. It hit Draco in the arm.

Long story short, the two of them had ended up brawling in the middle of the road while the house elf, an odd creature named Dobby, squeaked at them to stop before Master caught them. Dobby probably would have used magic, except he'd been afraid of hurting Harry, who was only a little boy at the time.

Clothes were torn, skin was bruised, and lips were split. It would have gone badly for them both if Dobby hadn't had the sense to mend their clothes and heal their injuries before Lucius came out.

The two were fast friends forever afterwards, and tried to meet up as often as possible- and as Lucius generally visited Knockturn at least twice a month and had little time for his tagalong son, it wasn't hard for Draco to slip away to Harry's favorite spot, near Bloody Mary's.

Draco had been Harry's first real friend, and had known almost from the start that 'Ace' was Harry Potter. And yes, he was an insufferably spoiled brat, but he wasn't evil. Or at least, he wasn't evil enough to want to be a Death Eater, not when Voldemort had tried to kill his best friend as a baby.

Harry smiled wryly, wondering how, exactly, he and Draco were going to pull this off. Draco didn't want to announce his true loyalties and risk losing the Malfoy fortune, but he also had no plans to become a Death Eater. He would have to find a way to pass along useful information, without giving Lucius and Voldemort anything that could actually be used against Harry.

The adults were arguing it out; Dumbledore finally had to agree to take Draco when Lucius handed him a letter from the Minister authorizing the Malfoy boy's stay at Hogwarts.

Smirking in a distinctly Slytherin manner, Lucius and Narcissa floo'd away.

"Thank Merlin they're gone," Draco said with a sigh the moment his parents had left. He stood and stretched, nodding to the bemused adults.

"How's Dobby?" Harry asked, ignoring the startled looks he got as a result of his query.

Draco shrugged. "He's a house elf. Why should I care?"

"You're a prat, Draco."

"No, I'm a Malfoy. There's a difference."

Harry laughed and strode forward to embrace his old friend. In a manly way, of course, with plenty of back-thumping and impish grinning before they sprang apart, lest anyone get the wrong idea.

Snape and Remus looked like they were sharing a migraine. Dumbledore just raised an eyebrow and asked, "Is there something you'd like to tell us, Harry?"

Harry glanced over at Draco, who was looking smug and superior as only a Malfoy can.

"Draco's my friend," he said with a twisted grin. "We've known each other for years."

Draco sneered. "And now I'm supposed to sell you out to the Dark Lord. Father doesn't trust you, you know, Professor Snape. He's certain you're a spy- he wants me to watch you as well as Harry."

Snape's expression was unreadable, but Remus was staring at Draco as if he'd just called himself a useless coward, and Dumbledore was still watching Harry expectantly.

"Draco's not with Voldemort," Harry said. "And I trust him more than I trust even Leander or Chance."

"They know Leander?" Draco asked with a grimace of distaste.

Harry had to grin. Draco and Leander had hated each other at first sight, and their entirely mutual loathing had only deepened with time. The two squabbled like children whenever they were around each other. "Leander's actually at Hogwarts. He's my new bodyguard," Harry told his oldest friend.

"Bloody hell," the blond boy groaned. "Why do you keep him around, anyway? He's horrible. And he smells."

Harry rolled his eyes. "He's not horrible, and he doesn't smell. And he's my friend."

"But you like me more," Draco pointed out arrogantly.

"Merlin knows why," Harry muttered.

"Because I'm beautiful and witty and I don't lust after you, unlike that moron fleabag of a bloodsucker," Draco said with a smile.

"Leander's a vampire," Harry drawled. "He lusts after anyone who's even mildly good-looking."

"Good-looking? So why does he want _you_?"

"Harry," Remus interrupted wearily, looking entirely exasperated, "do you have any other friends or acquaintances we should know about?"

"Let's see," Harry murmured, deciding it probably wouldn't hurt to at least tell them his friends who went to Hogwarts. "Neville Longbottom is a friend of mine, though he doesn't know I'm Harry Potter. Same with Luna Lovegood and Theodore Nott."

"Bunch of freaks," Draco muttered resentfully. "Well, not Theodore, he's just irritating. But Longbottom and Loony Lovegood..."

"Are my friends," Harry said warningly. Draco scowled.

"How on earth did you meet a group like that?" Remus demanded.

Harry shrugged. "Draco actually introduced me to Theodore about two years ago. I met Luna when I was twelve, in Italy, when I was getting my second wand. And Neville...well, Draco and I were in Diagon Alley a few years ago when we caught sight of Nev. He'd gotten separated from his grandmother, and was pretty close to panicking. Draco thought it was hysterical."

"And of course you, being the hero, had to step in and help the useless lump out," Draco sneered.

Snape, apparently, had lost all patience. "This is idiocy. We should be focusing on Draco's task, not bickering like first years."

"That's easy enough," Draco said airily, surprising Harry. He'd thought this would be difficult, if Draco wanted to keep Voldemort from finding out he wasn't loyal. "Once I turned sixteen, my place as the Malfoy heir became irreversible- they can't disown me. It's a Malfoy tradition- it happened to Father, and to Grandfather, and so on back to the thirteen hundreds. So I'm free to do as I like."

"Why didn't you ever tell me about that before?" Harry demanded. "It would've saved me a lot of worry."

Draco shrugged. "I didn't know until recently. Father didn't tell me because he thought if I was afraid of losing the fortune, I'd be more amenable to his plans and orders. Mother let it slip a few weeks ago, though, and I checked with Gringotts to make sure she wasn't lying. The only way I can lose the fortune now is if I disown myself- declare that I'm not a Malfoy, and that Mother and Father are no longer my parents."

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

_To go against the dominant thinking of your friends, of most of the people you see every day, is perhaps the most difficult act of heroism you can have. _

_-T.H. White_

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

Severus had a headache.

Potter. Harry James Potter was even more a mystery than he'd been at first, and Severus was no closer to figuring him out.

The boy was good at Potions, even if he'd never be Master material, and Severus had to respect that. And he'd beaten Lupin in a duel. The werewolf wasn't spectacular when it came to fighting, but he was good, good enough that no sixth year should have been able to best him.

Potter also had several most unexpected friends. Albus' theory was likely the best - "Power calls to power, as you well know," the Headmaster had said. "I suspect Harry is subconsciously drawing others to himself, especially those with similar personality traits or power levels. Why else would the centaurs have agreed to ally with us? Or the vampires?"

And now Draco...

"Speak of the devil," he murmured as the door opened and the blond boy in question slipped inside. Severus had always had a soft spot for Draco, ever since the brat was just a toddler, and had given him access to his private rooms back in his first year.

"Professor," Draco greeted him with a nod, moving to sit in the armchair across from Snape, near the lit fireplace.

"Draco," Severus replied quietly. "Where is Potter?"

"Harry's in our rooms- Dumbledore's having us stay together." Draco looked pained. "It's not so bad, sharing a room with Harry, but Leander's there as well."

"You truly care for Potter," Severus realized, studying his student.

Draco shrugged, embarrassed. "He's my best friend. If it weren't for him, I'd probably be a miniature copy of my father in more than just looks. You have no idea how astounding it was, when I first met Harry. He was this filthy, ragged little street urchin and I was the proud Malfoy scion, and he still managed to beat me in a fight. Called me names, said money and pure blood weren't any good to a corpse, and that if I couldn't even fight off a starving eight year old- of course, I was just eight as well, but...

"He was right. It took me a while to admit it, but he was right. Blood purity...it's not worth dying for, or killing for."

Severus contemplated the young Slytherin for a few long, uncomfortably quiet minutes. "You're wiser than I was at your age," he finally said.

"Well, yes," Draco agreed. "But then, I'm a Malfoy."

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

Review Responses:

**tweeny-weeny:** I love sarcasm, and that tends to show in my stories. Harry and Umbridge will not be anything like friendly. The door...erm, important to certain plot points...yes. Exciting and forbidden? Not so much.

**dress-without-sleeves:** How on earth did you ever guess? And yes, yes I am brilliant. Of course Ginny loves Harry's insectness. She wouldn't have him any other way. Nods solemnly, then cracks up completely. Gnat...bwahahaha.

**HazelWolf:** Fun fic? But I was going for deeply moving and inspirational! Grins. Hey, think I can snag the 'feel-good fic of the year' award? ...nah. I'll hunt down Potter and read it. Eventually. After I've worked through all the other fics on my list. Sigh - life is so hard.

**Molly Morrison:** Wow. I'm honored you reviewed. Though I'm not sure whether I should feel insulted that you apparently like my FAQs more than the story itself...but then again, I do too. Grins. I've read A Mug of Warm Milk - and reviewed, something along the lines of 'I worship you forever'. Hah - I amused _Molly Morrison_. I am, like, beyond kewl.

**Hades' Phoenix:** First Molly Morrison, now you. Happy dance! Let me just say I adore 'Cast a Stone'. I just want to cuddle Harry and snog Damon to death. Now for the actual review response: My parents would make me confess to my teacher if I ever cheated. As to Harry's 'misplaced heterosexuality' (snicker) - as I said above, I'm might write a slash version.

**Nimbirosa:** Oh, shush. So I made a mistake. Right after ranting about idiots who don't use spell check... All right, now I'm going to go crawl under that rock over there and never ever come out... And depending on how busy I get, you may have to steal Invictus from me. Sigh.

**E.A.V:** Wow. Huh. Grins. I wasn't saying that Invictus is bad, but that it's like the fanfic equivalent of The Mummy - fun, but with huge gaping plot holes and very little in common with reality. And yes, good writing is surprisingly rare - one of the reasons I like both het and slash, as it doubles the number of quality fics I can read.

**VividScribbler:** My face scrunches up every time I write 'Vampire Prince' because, hey, corny...but oh well. I seem to have masochistic tendencies. Shrugs. Hmm...there'll be a few people joining the 'I Hate Harry' club fairly soon, and Harry will stop being such a blatant Gary Stu by chapter 10 or 11. Hopefully.

**spotless-mind:** I originally used the marshmallow line in my Mary Sue parody (insert shameless self-promotion). As for Leander and Snape...nope. Sorry, it's just...Leander's a bit of a priss - he couldn't stand to be near someone with Snape's less than hygienic habits. And I'm a firm believer in UglyGreasySnarky!Snape. Which makes me wonder why I like him so very much.

**KittenRebecca:** One of your guesses for Harry's form was right. I'm not saying which one, though. And Harry has now been compared to both Jack Sparrow, Groucho Marx, and Ford Prefect/Zaphod. o.0 Dumbledore doesn't think Harry returns Leander's affections - the trouble in paradise line wasn't meant to imply that Harry and Leander are together, though I see why people thought so. I have to work on clarifying things. Sigh.

**Akuma-sama:** Ooh, Backwards Compatible - the _only _HHr story I can stand. A catfight? D'you reckon McGonagall's a hair-puller? As for the centaurs - hope I answered part of that up above. 'Full alliance' means they'll defend the forest and Hogwarts in case of attack and help heal the wounded. They won't go crusading against Voldie.

**vire:** Snicker - secure in his love for Person A/B/C but emotionally tortured...great description. And while I do like the independent Harry thing, I hate it when he gets all-out rebellious and "I'll do whatever I want, and there's nothing you can do to stop me, so there. Nyah!" Now, I adore HarrySnape, but HarryHermione squicks me. I don't know why, but whatever.

**Wren Truesong:** It seems most people like my OCs - but aren't OCs supposed to be the Ultimate Evil to some folks? Yes, Harry is a teddy bear. A Cruciatus-casting teddy bear, but whatever. The Black Family Gift annoyance? Snape would agree. People keep asking me to write a side-story about the shrubbery. Maybe one of these days I will, after I've raided my parents' alcohol cabinet. You know, to be in the right frame of mind and all. Ooh, I figured out how to do lj cuts all on my lonesome! I'm so kewlz.

**Slytherin-Ali:** Criticize me all you like. Please. Concrit can only help my writing. As for how Voldie got back - weeelll, I went and reread the graveyard scene a while ago and noticed something Voldemort said about Peter. That's actually what inspired Invictus, pondering what would happen if Voldie came back to life without using Harry's blood. Of course, I'm terminally incapable of writing a serious long story, so this has been rather more light-hearted than I'd originally planned...but the HP fandom already has enough angst, I suppose.

Thanks also to: **missfictionlover** (sorry, but Harry will be straight)**, Quillian **(Umbridge? Leniency? Don't bother)**, ERMonkey Burner of Cookies** (Harry does have an animagus form)**, yuiop, IntoTheMist, Tondo-the-half-elf, Surarrin** (grins...sorry)**, Xenocide** (Ginevra is an alternate spelling of Guinevere?)**, Dens Serpentis** (strict? Well, someone has to keep you reviewers in line!)**, I-Shave-Clowns** (how did you guess my giraffasaurous plans!)**, athenakitty, captuniv** (you're going to be a very smug person in a few chapters)**, Harry Potter 101, LoonyLoopyLisa, PantherMage, LIMAR, Earendil'sgirl** (I made you spit out your coffee? Please don't sue)**, japanese-jew** (Crowley is just so...yum)**, SeekerTLK** (Pratchett!Worship. And about the RHr oneshot - you're quite right)**, bandgsecurtiyaw, HecateDeMort, Nomanic, Bumperz, PolarStar14, Serena R. Snape, Lil Ole Me 97** (gag and retch sounds right)**, Night-Owl123, Anon, laimerkian** (corny is bad. If this becomes corny, shoot me)**, Artemis1000** (I do so adore OotP McGonagall)**, Muhahahaha, Shadowed Rains** (I've given 95 signed reviews. I'm a nonreviewer - the kind of person I hate)**, NoAlias** (actually, Harry stops being so GaryStuish around chapter 10 or so)**, ZZ9PluralZAlpha** (wow. This animagus thing is really frustrating you people, isn't it?)**, neferseba, SiLvErFaTeD** (Eew, Cho. Shudder)**, Loopy Luna Lovegood, IndiaInk** (I don't think I've ever met a 'normal' person)**, Isabel Evelyn, Crissy Potter, azntgr01, borne-shadow-childe** (wow...lots of guesses. Blinks)**, anonymous, Kypris** (sorry, Leander's outta luck)**, Eaiva le Fay** (who says Harry won't kill Umbridge? Just kidding...maybe...bwahahaha)**, Fayr Warning, Acerbus Sidus** (the boa constrictor would've been fun, but I'd already chosen his form)**, apple reaper, DarIm, gwen** (thanks - I'll check those sites out)**, Enarra** (I never think straight, so you're in good company)**, Nanaho, Cassidy** (the Sorting scene is already written, and has been for a while)**, Dana, rinariku, Archmage of Necromancy, The Egalitarian Act** (how did you ever guess it was a snorkack? Snicker)**, terrorofthehighway, marietsy, Mistral, MysterioX, Lady Urguentha, Sofie Christianson** (always glad to amuse)**, Otspock, Kaaera, Kara Crane, Talons** (Invictus induces hysteria? o.0)**, A-man, Iridescent Twilight** (yup - you mentioned his form)**, MsVonnegut, Nytingale, Rise of Phoenix** (ah, yes, the platypus...)**, Jagare, Nimohtar, Lady11Occult, tdei, Talkin' of Normality** (when are you going to update your time travel fic? I'm dying here)**, The Challenger, lucy-lollipop, SCWLC** (well, he _is_ a teenager, not an adult stuck in an adolescent's body)**, ff-moon, nickcartersloverboy, Sakusha-san** ('fraid I've got someone else in mind for Harry)**, Colon** (Britpicking is exactly as you said)**, Darkmoona, kobe23, wizardmon92, Terris1** (I used the phrase 'slipped from his mind' for a reason - hint hint grin)**, Alexis, benighted fool** (snicker)**, TheConfused, Smiley Face3, PussyKitten, EC, DragonFoxx, insanechildfanfic, sami1010220** (Grins - Leander's all yours. For now, at least...)**, Jennifer, RavensCave, Catherine, RebelHanyouofDarkness** (I think I'll use that quote in Chapter 13)**, iamai, Lindiel Eryn, Andromeda's kitty, cazertanu, Herald-Mage Brianna **(I've always thought that Ron/Hermione was more Lily/James-ish than Harry/Ginny)**, lunadea21, Metropolis-Rising** (you can have review responses as long as they aren't their own chapter)**, smiles, Shadowface** (Hmm...allicio)**, Cherrysinger** (moment? As in, singular? Ah...erm...)**, Aria-Chan, anonomous, ak-alterego, JaBootiekins, White Ivy, Harm, jenstarfire, wowsergirl, Stellaluna Melonballer, who cares, bookworm3429, Amaris Kincaid, JerseyPike, VernonT** (I have a plot? Wow. I'm moving up in the world) and **inublack. **Thanks again!


	9. Chapter Eight: Macho Man Or, Harry Goes ...

Disclaimer: NOT MINE.

Now, several folks have asked me where I get my quotes. One quote in this story is actually something a friend of mine said a while ago. The Terry Pratchett/Neil Gaiman quotes, along with several Douglas Adams ones, I copied from their novels. The rest I selected from various quotes compendiums on the net and in books. My favorite quotes website is www . wist . info - there are LOTS of quotes there, many of which are absolutely hysterical.

THANKS TO MY BETAS, M'cha Araem and Nimbirosa. They don't get paid near enough. In fact, they don't get paid at all. Huh.

Once again, let me just say that I won't be able to post nearly as often as I have been. Things have been extremely hectic in my life at the moment, and I haven't had any time to write lately. In fact, pretty much everything in my life has been put on hold but for school/tutoring. I'm ashamed to admit I'm badly neglecting all my online duties.

And jeese, people, lighten up on Ginny. She's always seemed pretty inoffensive to me. And yes, Fanon!Ginny is often rather over the top, but Fanon!Snape is snuggly and has clean hair, Fanon!Draco is insecure, abused, and selfless, Fanon!Ron is a blockheaded ingrate, and Fanon!Harry is a depressive rebellious Merlinesque self-mutilating sex god. Honestly.

One more note: I swear, Harry'll start settling down soon. I realize that in this chapter, he is way too belligerent, something he will later be called on. Just keep in mind, this Harry is completely out of his depth, and his way of coping (as I mentioned briefly in the Diagon Alley chapter) is to be antagonistic and get into a fight.

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**Chapter Eight: Macho Man (Or, Harry Goes Way, Way Overboard)**

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_He who has a strong enough why to live for, can bear almost any how. _

_-Friedrich Nietzsche_

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The letter came two days later, halfway through breakfast.

Draco carefully opened the envelope and unfolded the parchment contained within, his movements precise and elegant. His lips thinned and his eyes grew cold as he read through the letter, and his hands curled into fists, crumpling the edges of the parchment. When Draco was done reading it, he wordlessly handed the parchment to Harry.

Frowning, Harry scanned through the missive, noting that, as always, the real message was hidden in a plethora of inane comments and observations. Lucius, paranoid bastard that he was, found it necessary to write in code.

"It's pretty much what we expected," he tried to comfort his friend even though he knew it would do no good. They'd both known Lucius wouldn't leave Draco alone, but knowledge and acceptance don't always go hand in hand.

"What is it?" Snape demanded from a few seats down. All of them- Harry, Draco, and most of the faculty- were seated at the Head Table. Leander was off in the forest, no doubt hunting down innocent woodland creatures as a break from the regular packaged blood he'd been consuming. For a bodyguard, he really didn't spend much time with his charge.

The rest of the Order had left, including Sirius and Remus- though both promised to return as often as possible. Sirius had even asked Harry to come live with him and Remus at a place called Grimmauld, but Harry had refused. "This is where the action is, after all," he'd said with a mischievous smile, knowing the Marauders would appreciate trouble more than most others.

Now, Harry almost wished they'd stayed. Sirius and Remus were good at cheering people up, and Draco was certainly going to need a bit of humor and levity after the letter he'd just received.

"It's a message from my father," Draco explained expressionlessly. "He wants to know why I've yet to send him a report on Harry."

"And me," Snape finished with a dark scowl. Harry was beginning to wonder if the Slytherin man had any facial expressions other than scowling and sneering. Not that he particularly cared- for the most part, he and Snape didn't have much to do with each other.

Harry didn't know why, but he sometimes got the distinct impression that Snape didn't know how to treat him, and so had settled for a sort of distant disdain. Harry didn't much like being looked down on, so he avoided the Potions Master when he could, and acted carefully neutral around the man when he couldn't.

Harry just hoped that he'd been wrong and that his father hadn't really been as big a bully as he was seemed to be in some of Sirius' stories. Not that Sirius or Remus ever said as much outright...but Harry could read between the lines, and had gathered that James had been something of an arrogant prick during his Hogwarts days. If James Potter really had been that much of an ass, and to Snape...well, it wasn't any wonder the Potions Master didn't much like his son, then.

"Yes, and you," Draco agreed with Snape, startling Harry out of his dark reverie. Harry wasn't usually one to get lost in thought, but he'd had a hectic two weeks, and had been left with more than enough to think about.

"If I might see the letter?" Dumbledore spoke up, glancing pointedly at the parchment Harry still held. Harry, after waiting for Draco to nod in acceptance, handed it to the Headmaster. Dumbledore read through it quickly, mustache twitching whenever he came across something that angered or amused him.

"I assume this is written in code?" the white-haired man asked when he was done, his gaze unusually direct and serious.

"Of course," Draco said, irritated. "My father isn't foolish enough to say exactly what he means, not when there's a chance his words might fall into the wrong hands. The letter basically says that he's angry with me for not being quicker about reporting, and that the Dark Lord is getting impatient. There are a few threats in there regarding my position as his heir, and a reminder to watch the entire faculty carefully, not just Harry and Professor Snape."

"Bastard," Harry muttered. He'd always had a special spot of loathing in his heart for Lucius Malfoy. The aristocrat had never physically harmed Draco, but he certainly wasn't against using intimidation, manipulation, or emotional abuse to control his son. The elder Malfoy viewed Draco more as a possession than a person- a prized possession, yes, one to be cared for and cherished, but still a possession.

Narcissa, at least, genuinely cared for her son, even if she did spoil him beyond forgiveness.

"I'll write back later," Draco said quietly to Harry, so quietly that the teachers had to strain their ears to hear. "Tell him that I've no intention of spying on anyone, much less becoming a Death Eater."

"Are you sure?" Harry asked worriedly, even more quietly than his friend. "Maybe you should wait- send along some false information at first. Your father...there's quite a bit he could do to make your life miserable, even if he can't disown you."

Draco merely shook his head. "He can't do a thing to me," he denied stubbornly. "Not while I'm at Hogwarts."

"Draco-"

"Harry," the Malfoy heir snapped, "let it alone. I know what I want to do, and I'm going to do it. If my father decides to try anything, then there's nothing stopping me from going straight to the Ministry and naming him as one of the Dark Lord's most faithful followers."

Harry blinked, certain that the others in the Hall were just as shocked as him, if not more so. "You'd do that?"

Draco shrugged. "It doesn't matter if I would, not as long as my father thinks I might. He won't try anything, not when I have that much power over him. I'm as safe as can be, Harry, and probably safer than if I really were spying on you."

Sighing, Harry decided that this was one argument he wouldn't win. He just hated to see someone he cared about in danger. It was his greatest weakness, he knew, but he'd do anything to keep the people he cared for safe and happy.

"Fine," he said reluctantly. "Just don't do anything stupid, all right?"

The look Draco shot him was haughty and practically drenched with contempt. "_I_ am not the one lacking in mental acuity, Potter."

Harry, recognizing this for an attempt to lighten the mood and distract their audience from Draco's decision, decided to play along. "Whatever you say, Malfoy. But at least _I'm_ not a twitchy little albino brat."

They bickered amicably through the rest of the meal, ignoring the thoughtful stares from the faculty and the gravity of their current situation. Reality would intrude on them soon enough, but for the moment, they were content to enjoy their youth and simply be.

Harry suspected there wouldn't be much left to enjoy before long.

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_Nothing makes us so lonely as our secrets. _

_-Paul Tournier_

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Severus was quite surprised when, at about ten that night, someone knocked on the door to his office. Setting down the course syllabus for the fifth years that he'd been planning out, he called a terse, "Come in."

He got another shock when the door opened to admit a determined-looking Harry Potter.

For the most part, he'd been ignoring Potter as best he could, and vice versa. To be deliberately sought out by the boy was...startling.

"Potter," he said brusquely. "Stop standing there like a dolt and come in. That is, if you having something to say and aren't just wasting my time."

To his annoyance, Potter smiled instead of growing flustered. "Thanks for the invite," was all he said, stepping forward and letting the door fall shut behind him. Without so much as a by-your-leave, he plopped himself down in one of the straight-backed chairs facing Severus' desk.

"Why are you here?" Severus demanded irritably, even as he noted that Harry really didn't look all that much like his father, not with his long hair and relatively slight stature. James had been taller and solidly built, while this boy was only a little above average height with a slender, lithe frame.

The elder Potter would never have worn earrings, either, and would certainly not have grown his hair out.

"I'm worried about Draco," Potter Junior said bluntly, slouching down in the armchair. "Lucius Malfoy's a clever bastard, and frankly, Draco's not always the sharpest crayon in the box. He's not an idiot, but he isn't a match for his father, either."

"Something of which I am well aware," Severus drawled.

"So?" Potter demanded. Severus' brows arched.

"Yes, Potter?"

The boy frowned. "So," he clarified his earlier one-word query, "what are you going to do to help protect him?"

Severus' eyes narrowed at the brat's presumption. "Nothing, Potter."

Well, that had evidently come as quite a surprise to Potter the Younger. "Nothing?" he repeated incredulously. "But you're his Head of House! He told me himself that you've known him since he was a baby!"

"Quite," Severus agreed shortly, not enjoying the conversation in the least. "Unfortunately, however, I have certain commitments that conflict with my ability to keep Mister Malfoy safe."

Whatever he was expecting, it wasn't what he got. "You mean spying," Potter said.

Severus' blood froze in his veins. "_What did you say?_"

"I know you're a spy," Potter reiterated calmly. "I've lived in Knockturn Alley, Professor, and Death Eaters' identities are common knowledge there. And if you're in the Order...it stands to reason you're spying on Voldemort."

"Don't say that name!" Severus snapped, his hands curled into fists. His mind raced, though he was certain his expression gave nothing away.

Potter knew he was a spy. This could be disastrous.

"I'm not going to tell anyone," the brat said with a roll of his eyes, as if Severus' life were something to be taken lightly. "I just want to know how your position as a spy compromises your ability to help keep my best friend alive."

Severus stared at the boy hard, reluctantly impressed when Potter met his gaze unflinchingly. Very slowly and subtly, Severus delved into the boy's mind.

Images flashed by, too quickly for him to see. Snatches of conversation, a burst of song, a quiet sob... Severus ignored all of that, searching instead for anything regarding himself in the younger man's brain.

And there...

_"Seems Snape's a spy after all," Leander said. The vampire and Potter were in a set of rooms Severus assumed was theirs. "Unless he's spying for Voldemort on the Order, but that doesn't seem too likely."_

_Emotions from Potter- respect for Snape, a bit of concern, and good deal of curiosity._

_"I don't think he's with Voldemort," the boy denied. "In fact, I'm pretty sure he's trustworthy, and you know how good my instincts generally are."_

Severus withdrew from Potter's mind. The boy looked a bit confused, maybe even dazed, but didn't seem to suspect his future Professor had done anything.

"Use your head, Potter," Severus finally said in response to his earlier question. "Mister Malfoy has made it quite clear by now that he has no intention of following the Dark Lord. If anyone so much as suspects that I am sheltering Draco or protecting him in any way, my life is forfeit. And what, exactly, would you have me do to protect him, anyway? Cast a spell to ward off danger? Brew a potion to make him invincible? I cannot be there to guard him every moment of the day, Potter, nor can I do anything to help him while I am absent."

Some of his frustration must have shown, because Potter's eyes softened. "You're right," the youth sighed, shocking the Potions Master, who had never before heard a Potter utter those words, much less to _him_. "And I figured there wasn't anything much you could do. But it was worth a try."

And then it struck Severus that Potter truly was concerned for Draco, and that the friendship went both ways.

Severus had much to think about - concerning both boys.

"If that is all?"

Potter nodded to him curtly, stood, and left.

Alone once more in his office, Severus tried in vain to convince himself that the brat really was like his father.

"Blasted Potters," he growled after a few minutes. "Never a moment of peace with one of them around..."

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_Clothes make the man. Naked people have little or no influence on society. _

_-Mark Twain_

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Four days before the first of September, Dolores Umbridge arrived at Hogwarts, right when the inhabitants of the castle had started dinner. Well, most of the inhabitants. Harry and Draco entered the Great Hall a few moments after Umbridge.

"Told you she looks like a toad," Draco told a worn and dirty Harry, who had only just finished one of his tutorials with Professor Sprout. Sprout had decided to skip dinner altogether, else she'd have accompanied the two.

The two boys stayed to the shadows, watching as their Defense instructor greeted the other professors with a disgustingly saccharine smile. "Jesus," Harry breathed, "someone needs to teach her how to dress. That sweater..."

"A person can be as evil as he or she wants," Draco decided, "but there's no excuse for poor taste in fashion."

Harry glanced at Draco out of the corner of his eye, while keeping most of his attention on Umbridge. "You're strange," he informed the blond, who had been acting more and more oddly ever since he'd informed his father that he wasn't the good little Death-Eater-In-Training he'd pretended to be for so long.

Harry wasn't certain, but he thought Draco's behavior was a result of suddenly being free, without having to worry about his family's expectations or a life of servitude to a certifiable Dark Lord.

"I'm not strange. I'm eccentric," Draco corrected haughtily, looking down his pointed nose at his friend.

"There's a difference?" Harry asked, amused.

"Eccentric is strange with a pile of money."

Harry decided he needed to find new friends.

"Ah, Harry, Draco, there you are," Dumbledore called, as if he hadn't known they were there all along. "Come here, boys!"

"Someone sedate him," Harry grumbled as they both ambled to the front of the hall. Umbridge was eying Harry beadily, sizing him up and clearly finding him lacking. The rest of the professors, barring Dumbledore and Firenze, were still seated. Dumbledore stood next to Umbridge, though he kept at least a foot of space between them at all times.

"You remember young Draco, of course," Dumbledore said with a beaming smile that expertly hid his distaste for the Inquisitor. Harry was impressed.

"Of course," Umbridge simpered. "He's such a delightful boy..."

Draco gave her his best suck-up smile. Harry pretended to gag.

"And this is Harry Potter."

"Ah, yes," Umbridge said, turning back to the Boy Who Lived, who stopped clutching his throat and making choking sounds just in time. "The Minister spoke to me about you."

"You have no idea," Harry said, batting his eyelashes, "how special that makes me feel." Umbridge's insincere smile grew even more fake.

Draco choked back a laugh, and Dumbledore practically had fireworks going off in his eyes. Harry risked a glance at the rest of the faculty and saw that Snape was smirking and that McGonagall was giving him her patented 'you've just earned yourself another biscuit' look.

Oh yes, he and McGonagall understood each other very well.

"Hem hem," Umbridge said, eyes narrowing as she called Harry's attention back to herself. "Minister Fudge tells me you're concerned for your safety, Mister Potter."

"Oh, not anymore," Harry answered airily. "After all, I'm allowed to protect myself, right? And besides, I have a bodyguard."

Her gaze sharpened even more. "Bodyguard?"

"That would be me."

With his normal perfect timing, Leander swept into the hall, hard-faced and cold-eyed. Harry was impressed- Leander certainly knew how to put on a good show. He supposed it was a vampire thing. They liked to make impressions, even if they weren't naturally sociable creatures.

Of course, Leander had probably been waiting outside the Great Hall for a good opening. He was weird like that.

"And who are you?" the toad-woman asked sweetly.

"Leander," the vampire said frigidly. "Prince Leander." He smiled, letting his fangs show. Harry was a bit startled - Leander hadn't smiled for days, ever since he got the news that the vampires hunting down Macnair had been killed by a group of eight Death Eaters.

Umbridge's round face drained of color as she realized exactly what Leander was- and it certainly took her long enough. She should have known he was a vampire was right away, especially as she was supposed to be teaching Defense.

Her eyes bulging even more than normal, she turned on Dumbledore, who discreetly took a half step back to maintain his twelve inches of personal space. "You've allowed a vampire into the school? Have you no concern for the children?"

"He's living on pre-packaged blood," Harry spoke up ever-so-helpfully. "He's not about to attack anyone." He paused and reconsidered. "All right, so he might attack Draco, but that's just because they hate each other."

"This is unacceptable," Umbridge snapped, her face mottled red. "The vampire will leave. Now." Leander, clearly less than pleased at being called 'the vampire', leveled a basilisk-like glare at the toad.

Draco cleared his throat and pasted on his most charming (or smarmy, depending on your point of view) smile. "Madam," he said smoothly, "he _is_ a prince."

"He's a halfbreed and a menace, Mister Malfoy," Umbridge said, all the earlier sugar gone from her voice, "and I won't have it. Be assured, the Minister will hear of this!"

"You forget, Madam," Dumbledore said calmly, looking at the Inquisitor over the tops of his half-moon spectacles, "that I, as Headmaster, have the final say about who is permitted to stay in the castle."

Umbridge's face twisted, becoming even more grotesque for a moment. Then it smoothed out, and her pale, bulging eyes glinted with malicious anticipation. "We shall see, Headmaster," she said, her tone once more honey and sweetness. "Hem hem." Harry felt like gagging once more, only this time for real. He was quite relieved to see his Defense professor turn on her heel and waddle away.

Unfortunately, he had a feeling she'd return soon, and bring vast amounts of trouble with her.

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_Futue te ipsum et caballum tuum. -- Screw you and the horse you rode in on._

_-Anonymous_

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It turned out that Harry's instincts were right once again, for Dolores Umbridge returned within half an hour. Harry, Draco, and Leander had just finished dinner and were about to leave to explore the seventh floor of the castle, one of the few areas of the castle Harry hadn't yet reached. Most of the staff were already gone- only Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, and Firenze remained, the former three discussing Order business as Dumbledore munched on a roll. Several small crumbs had gotten caught in his beard, and some butter was stuck to his moustache.

Firenze, on the other hand, was clearly off in his own little world, paying no mind to anyone else in the Hall.

Umbridge came first, at the head of an extremely odd-looking procession. Right behind the squat woman was Fudge himself, clutching his bowler hat to his balding head and puffing as he tried to keep up. They were followed by six aurors, most of whom seemed less than thrilled to be near their Minister and his Undersecretary. Harry vaguely recognized one as the trainee he'd intimidated so easily during his interrogation. Duncan something-or-other, if he recalled correctly. The trainee was puffed up with self-importance, and kept sneaking admiring glances at the Minister.

The only other auror Harry recognized was Shacklebolt, who looked just as calm and capable as ever. Harry was beginning to wonder what it would take to ruffle the man.

"There," Umbridge said triumphantly, pointing at Leander. "The vampire!" Harry, Draco, and Leander were in the middle of the hall, as they'd stopped moving towards the exit the moment they'd seen Umbridge and her entourage.

Fudge's beady little rat eyes widened. "Dumbledore, man," he gasped, "a vampire at Hogwarts? Have you gone mad?"

Harry glanced at the Headmaster, who was wearing canary yellow robes dotted with myriad small pink and purple stars. Dumbledore smiled serenely as he stood and said, "No more than I've ever been, Cornelius."

For just a split second, everyone in the room other than Dumbledore himself shared roughly the same thought: "Yes, he's barking."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, and Harry got the feeling that the Headmaster knew exactly what they were thinking.

Fudge regained his outraged stutter. "What is the meaning of this, Dumbledore? First a werewolf, now a vampire? Have you no concern for the students' safety? Think of the children!"

Draco burst into a fit of unmanly giggles.

"Hem hem," Harry said, smirking in Umbridge's direction as he recalled the various less-than-flattering impressions Draco had done of her. "I don't think you understand, Minister. Leander's here as my bodyguard. _Prince_ Leander," he added, suspecting that Fudge would be the sort to appreciate titles and rank.

"...Prince?" Fudge was brought up short by this unexpected change in the vampire's status. Umbridge didn't give him time to withdraw his complaints, however.

"Prince or not, Mister Potter, this has gone on long enough," she said, with a pale-eyed glare at Harry. "The vampire is a danger to the students. It will have to be removed immediately."

Before Harry, Dumbledore (who had finally reached Harry's side) or anyone else could protest, Firenze stepped forward from his position at the very end of the Head Table, where he'd been studying the ceiling of the Great Hall as he picked at his meal of grass and herbs.

"The centaurs have pledged their loyalty to Hogwarts," the blond stargazer announced, his gaze fixed on Umbridge. "We will withdraw our support as healers in the war if Harry Potter or Albus Dumbledore should ask."

Harry was startled, but quick enough on the uptake to swiftly say, "And I will ask them to withdraw, if Leander is disrespected in any way."

"The centaurs?" Fudge repeated in astonishment, utterly out of his depths. "But they've always maintained neutrality!"

"Mars glows crimson in the night sky," Firenze said solemnly. "We are not a people to ignore the stars' warnings or argue with fate."

"Besides," Leander spoke up in a lazy drawl, "the centaurs aren't the only ones ready to follow Hogwarts and Harry. The vampires- _all _the vampires, that is- are with him." His smile was positively poisonous. "It'd be a terrible thing for the Ministry, wouldn't it, if Harry Potter and his allies were to declare neutrality and leave the war to be fought by others." Harry suspected Leander was bluffing - his old friend had taken the deaths of Jareth and Akhaia, the two vampires sent to retrieve Macnair, as a personal insult. And as vampires scorned were vengeful creatures, the prince would be desperate to harm Voldemort's forces.

Fudge was a moron, but not completely bereft of brain cells, and the prospect of losing valuable allies - no matter that he hadn't even realized they were allies - was troubling. Pale and sweaty, he gulped and dragged a furious Umbridge off to the side. The two of them were soon embroiled in a heated debate, with Umbridge snapping "but they're halfbreeds!" every once in a while.

"Nicely done," Draco said to Leander. The vampire started, astonished that the boy would compliment him.

Of course, Draco immediately added, "Nicely done for a lackwit bloodsucking fiend, that is."

Ignoring the byplay, Harry stared hard at the quarrelling Fudge and Umbridge. "And these are the people in charge of Magical Britain," he said, shaking his head. "We're doomed, aren't we?"

"Show some respect," one of the aurors- Duncan Whatshisname- ordered, flushed with anger at Harry's insolence. The other five aurors looked as if they privately agreed with Harry's assessment.

"Grown a backbone, have we?" Harry asked, amused. "Tell me, why should I show respect? He's a complete idiot. And Umbridge is even worse. I mean, really, just look at her. She belongs in a pond, surrounded by scum and toadstools."

"It's his time of the month," Draco explained in a stage whisper.

Duncan Whatshisface ignored the Malfoy heir, quivering with outrage at Harry's disregard for the Minister's position and power. "You - you," he sputtered, so furious he was unable to continue.

"I - I what?" Harry asked mockingly. Duncan looked about ready to murder.

"Easy, Michaels," Shacklebolt cautioned quietly. "No need to start a fight."

"Spoil our fun, why don't you," an older gray-haired auror muttered resentfully.

"He insulted the Minister!" Michaels blustered, ignoring both of his colleagues. "And Madam Umbridge!"

"If you're looking for a fight," Harry spoke up with an unpleasant smile, "I'd be happy to oblige." The old auror perked up eagerly.

"Now, Harry," Dumbledore began, only to be cut off by the trainee.

"Very well, Potter. I, Duncan Michaels, challenge Harry Potter to a duel to defend the reputation of the Minister."

Harry's eyebrows rose and Duncan's fellow aurors stared at the young man as if he'd lost his mind. "Defending Fudge's honor? Someone's been reading too many crappy historical fiction novels," Harry said contemptuously. He hadn't expected Michaels to follow through and challenge him, and he was reluctant to actually engage an auror trainee in a duel, but he also wasn't about to step down. It was immature, yes, but Duncan was really, really getting on his nerves.

"Either this is fanaticism of a truly disturbing degree," Draco decided, "or Uppity Dunky here is madly in love with Fudge." The gray-haired auror snickered.

Michaels flushed a deep crimson, then paled to a mottled pink when Harry said, "Challenge accepted, Lancelot. Here and now sound good?" Give Michaels one last chance to back out...

Judging by Duncan's reaction, he hadn't exactly thought his challenge through. But neither did he look ready to withdraw his challenge. Damn, Harry thought with a sigh, there's only so much of this I can take.

"Now just you hold on," Fudge said, finally taking note of what was happening, "what's all this about a challenge?"

"Me and Michaels here are going to duel," Harry explained calmly.

"Harry, are you certain this is wise?" Dumbledore demanded, no hint of a twinkle in his blue eyes.

"Doesn't matter whether it's wise," Harry said with a shrug, a hard smile curling his lips. "The challenge has been offered and accepted; I can't back out of it now unless I forfeit. And that won't happen. Ever." He resisted the urge to strike a noble pose or let out a roar of manly fortitude.

"Urgh," Michaels gurgled.

"I think he's afraid," Leander said with a vicious smile.

"How'd you guess?" Draco deadpanned. "Could it have been the rather unpleasant shade of corpse-white he's gone?"

"Well, it could have something to do with the way he's trembling like a blancmange," Leander replied, united with Draco for a moment of snobbishness. Harry reflected for a second that the only thing worse than Leander and Draco fighting was Leander and Draco getting along.

"Oh, come on," Harry said patronizingly, deciding to ignore his friends for the time being and focus instead on his opponent. "It'll be all right, Dunky. I'll go easy on you."

That, apparently, was more than Michaels' pride could take. Scowling, he snapped, "Assume the correct position, then, Potter."

Harry waggled his eyebrows. "Now we're getting kinky. You a whips and chains sort of bloke?"

"My god," muttered one of the other aurors, a dark-haired woman. "Does he _ever _shut _up_?"

"On three," Leander said, even as the others in the hall watched Harry and Duncan with a sort of horrified fascination, as if faced with a train wreck or a midair broomstick collision. Those around Duncan and Harry began to back away, even Dumbledore.

"One," Leander said steadily, and Harry fired off a powerful stunner. Michaels, who had apparently actually believed his opponent would wait until three, went down like a log. He hit the floor with a particularly satisfying thud.

There was a moment of silence.

"Well, that was pathetic," Draco said, as everyone stared at the stupefied trainee.

Fudge swallowed, glancing between Duncan and Harry. "Perhaps," he said in an odd, tight, trembling voice, "we should...indulge the boy, yes? I'm sure the vampire won't harm anyone."

Umbridge resembled a constipated amphibian. A displeased constipated amphibian. "He cannot be allowed to show such disrespect to his elders and betters," she said angrily.

"Nonsense," Fudge said, regaining some of his composure. "That was a fair duel, and Potter _has _been cooperative - registered as an animagus and all." And Fudge was, for once, correct. Counting to three wasn't a real part of a duel, and waiting until three when there _was _a countdown was generally considered to be polite, but not necessary.

To further 'cooperate', Harry revived Michaels with a wave of his wand.

"What happened?" Uppity Duncan asked groggily.

"You lost, boy," the grizzled older auror informed the trainee with a toothy smile.

"What?" the young man demanded. "Impossible!" He shook himself and scrambled to his feet, gripping his wand tightly in his hand.

"Sorry," Harry lied with a smile.

"You cheated," Duncan spat. "You didn't wait for the vampire to reach three. I'm in auror training, there's no way a sixth year student could have won without cheating."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "What are you, five years old?" he asked, irritated. "I won fairly, not because I cheat, but because I did better than you."

"Here now," one of the younger aurors said, "no need to taunt him."

"And there's no need for that spineless idiot to accuse Harry of cheating," Leander retorted on Harry's behalf.

"That is enough," Dumbledore said quietly and calmly, somehow managing to silence the entire room with three words. "Harry, I expected better of you than this," he added, gazing at his ward solemnly. "You must learn to control yourself and show some maturity. And you, Mister Michaels, are acting like a child."

Michaels subsided, looking properly chagrined. Harry's lips thinned and his jaw clenched, but he didn't argue- later, in private, he'd give Dumbledore a piece of his mind, but not now, not in front of Umbridge and Fudge. The Ministry needed to believe Dumbledore had Harry under his thumb, or they'd likely try to take him away.

"Now, Dumbledore," Fudge said nervously, "there's no need to scold the boy so. The vampire can stay."

Umbridge opened her mouth to protest, but a look from Fudge silenced her.

Had his little duel with Michaels really intimidated Fudge that much? Ridiculous.

"After all," Fudge added with a strained smile, "royalty is royalty, eh?"

"Indeed," Leander drawled.

"Sycophant," Draco murmured, pasting an innocent smile onto his face when Fudge glanced suspiciously his way.

Harry watched, suppressing a grin, as the aurors, Fudge, and Umbridge left, Umbridge and Fudge whispering furiously to each other as they went.

"Score one for Hogwarts," he said with great satisfaction once they were gone.

"Umbridge is going to make your life a living hell," Draco informed him seriously. "You showed her up, and she's going to want to get back at you any way she can."

"Mister Malfoy is correct," Dumbledore said solemnly. "And I may not be able to aid you. Madam Umbridge has unprecedented power over the school."

"And she abuses that power as much as she can," McGonagall spoke up. She and Snape were still at the Head Table, and while McGonagall seemed worried for Harry, Snape wore hard, unpleasant smile. Harry wondered whether the smile was because Umbridge would be making his life difficult, or because of the scene that had just played out in the Great Hall.

"Do not let your temper get the best of you," Dumbledore added sternly. "Madam Umbridge is very good at taking advantage of a person's weaknesses, and if you are angry, it's all the more likely that she'll find something to punish you for. And I must ask you to keep your tongue in check when around Ministry officials; taunting them is beneath you, and could prove disastrous if you offend the wrong person."

Harry bristled and was about to retort when he saw Snape watching him. One eyebrow was raised in a mute challenge, and Harry suddenly felt rather childish for wanting to protest when, truth be told, Dumbledore was right about Harry behaving immaturely. "All right," he agreed reluctantly. "I'll try. But if someone insults me or my friends, then I'm not going to just take it."

Dumbledore chuckled. "I wouldn't expect you to, Harry."

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Thanks to - **The Slice, athenakitty, Stahchild, LordPixel, SaphirePhoenix, dress-without-sleeves, CheddarTrek, MR. Hottness, musiclover, gayashell, gatogirl1, Von, sean's grrl, Robbly, T.I.Phoenix, lost goddess of the shadows, blackdeadroses, Jasmine, darkanglefrmhell, Deadmen's Bells, ERMonkey Burner of Cookies, locic, Dens Serpentis, Nimbirosa, Talkin' of normality, I-Shave-Clowns, Molly Morrison, HecateDeMort, Imaginary Pantsu, RebelHanyouofDarkness, Josephine J. Turpin, Confuzzler, ZZ9PluralZAlpha, Kaaera, Herald-Mage Brianna, Night-Owl123, ShAdOwAdRiA, Mozes (and Danielle), Goddess of Muffins, Shadowed Rains, xyvortex, Talons, JDZ, Maddys-Murphy, Surarrin, neferseba, japanese-jew, Chaos-Empersonified, ak-alterego, Lady11Occult, jbfritz, HazelWolf, Cherrysinger, SeekerTLK, Kypris, vampyreice, benighted fool, Akuma-sama, yo-yo55d, Neqs, Shadowface, anniePADFOOT, E.A.V., Amaris Kincaid, Amber Myst, kamiyra, Daughter of Darkness777, xaureusx, Skuld's Sentaro3, CannonFodder, Rosaline Kells, she who must have Draco, Tide of Insurrection, wsantelm, phoenix the 1st, CuriousKitty, fiery shadows, LizaGirl, achilles-harry, phoenix, Loopy Luna Lovegood, Tondo-the-half-elf, Lil Ole Me 97, A-man, missfictionlover, gigolo, Me, Zhuyou, Jangel0982, Leeanna-Marie-Malfoy, IndiaInk, tweeny-weeny, gummybearsforever, PussyKitten, An Underpaid Critic, Noclaf, Sahagiel89, Dadaiiro, specialpastry, VividScribbler, Crissy Potter, Jennifer, Quillian, DarIm, who cares, Jeff17, aj, nabiki, Acerbus Sidus, FanFictionDreamer, Darkmoona, kitkat, Smiley Face3, Wren Truesong, albert87, iamai, Zaptor, ElspethBates, Sakusha-san, GingerSnap, hermoine21, MysterioX, TJ, Munching Munchkin Managem, KittenRebecca, Lindz, YumiAngel, Eaiva le Fay, Lady Urguentha, bandgsecurtiyaw, insanechildfanfic, HarrySlytherinson, White Ivy, Wolflady, Luisa, kobe23, kada7, SMB, HeWhoComesWithTheDawn, Avvy Kavvy, Akua, azntgr01, sami1010220, NS, MorganEddasil, Max Krugman, Iridescent Twilight, Pris, Tim Digidestined of Loyalty, Eve27, GaLlOpInGaRgOyLeS, Galyax, Monday, Alex Tempus Lupus, potterloverno1, Dragon, Ami, ShadowRess, Devonny Rose, BloodRedSword, Graceful-Little-Dragon, Letishia, Padfoot n' Moony, ashibabi, Centrau guardian, The One Eyed Witch, evansentranced, misshappy, Larna Mandrea, oldwolf, Rock Lobster, Fate, starchica, Stahchild, jeckyll, Amber Myst, kookyfaun3, Lady Smoothie, Illucia, OrganiclyMe, Sandyeka, GSCer, Sarah, grumpygrim, CelticCross83, Post-Scriptum, Ravens-Jade, TheWickedess, critic unknown, Mattel-chan, Jade Leopard, GiGiFanfic, tobang, depth, silverblueenchantress, gelibeans, areader, hazelstorm37, Nightfallshadow, Princess Azari Kaiya Son, Shadow of a Cat, potty the snowman, Eadha Ohn,** and** shazia)Riavera.**


	10. Chapter Nine: Why Harry Needs New Friend...

Disclaimer: I do not 'pwn' HP. But I do now know the meaning of 'pwn'. I'm so speshul.

Preview and FAQs will be up soon at my LJ. Review responses are at the end of the chapter. I'm afraid I may never get around to chapter 8's review responses. I'm such a bad person. -hangs head- I did, however, post chapter 8's FAQs at my livejournal, as well as the preview for this chapter. My livejournal is: www .livejournal. com /users/ opalish/ (without the spaces, obviously)

Many thanks to Nimbirosa and M'cha Araem, who so totally make sliced bread look lame.

As for those of you impatient for school to begin...well, I feel your pain. Hey, the Sorting is next chapter, though! And lo, there was much rejoicing.

Just a note - if you're impatient for Harry to get together with someone, you're in for a long wait, no matter how it seems this chapter.

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**Chapter Nine: Why Harry Needs New Friends**

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_Try as much as possible to be wholly alive, with all your might, and when you laugh, laugh like hell, and when you get angry, get good and angry. Try to be alive. You will be dead soon enough. _

_-William Saroyan_

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By the time September First arrived, Harry was ready to grievously injure, if not kill, Dolores Umbridge. He hated her. No, he _loathed_ her, loathed her with every cell of his being. And the feeling was more than mutual.

Just as Draco and Dumbledore predicted, the awful toad-woman was doing her bounden best to make Harry's life miserable. And there wasn't a damned thing Harry could do about it, not while the bitch was Inquisitor. He tried fighting back with a good bit of sarcasm and some nasty insults, but that had resulted in Umbridge giving him eight weeks of detention, to be served once the new school year began.

Harry had, after perusing Hogwarts, A History, triumphantly pointed out that according to the Hogwarts list of rules, a detention couldn't be given during the summer.

And thus a new Educational Decree came into existence.

"Sucks to be you," Draco had said, earning himself a kick in the shins.

So Harry was understandably relieved when, on the first day of September, he and Draco were allowed to leave Hogwarts so they could ride to school on the train with the other students. Leander had wanted to accompany them so he could guard Harry, but Dumbledore had pointed out that a vampire's presence at King's Cross would only draw unwanted attention and cause the students to panic.

In the end, Leander capitulated, and Shacklebolt showed up to escort Harry and Draco to the platform. They had to leave Hogwarts rather early, as Kingsley was supposed to arrive at King's Cross at the same time as the other aurors assigned to the Hogwarts Express.

"It isn't likely the train'll be attacked," the auror reassured them as he set up a special portkey in Dumbledore's office. The portkey was keyed into the wards around both the school and the train station so that Harry, Kingsley, and Draco wouldn't be torn apart by the various defensive spells blanketing Hogwarts and King's Cross. "Death Eaters wouldn't want their children to get hurt on accident. But it's better safe than sorry, and there'd be an uproar if the Ministry didn't take some precautions."

"Bloody Ministry," Harry muttered, leaning against the wall of the office and glowering at the portkey - a twisted up coat hanger. He had been in a constant bad mood ever since Umbridge first showed up, and even now, with his escape imminent, he remained angry and sullen. "I don't see why they leave Fudge in power - for Chrissakes, the man refused to believe Voldemort was back and outright called Dumbledore a liar!"

"Actually," Draco interrupted smoothly while Kingsley uttered one last spell, "Fudge just said Dumbledore was senile, not a liar."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Oh, well, in _that _case..."

"Spare us your biting wit and sharp sarcasm," Draco deadpanned. Harry flipped him off.

An amused cough - and how, exactly, could a cough convey amusement, Harry wondered - sounded from the door. Harry and Draco both looked over to see Dumbledore himself standing there, his moustache twitching as he suppressed a smile.

"No need to be vulgar, Harry," the Headmaster scolded lightly. "Kingsley, have you finished?"

"Yes," the dark-skinned man said in his deep baritone voice.

"Are portkeys really that difficult to make?" Harry asked curiously. It had taken Shacklebolt a good thirty minutes to set it up.

"They require a good deal of concentration and power," Dumbledore said, "but normally they take little time to create. Keying them in to various wards, however, is a long and arduous task."

"Can you show me how to make one?" Harry queried with his most innocent, butter-wouldn't-melt expression. Predictably, no one was fooled, possibly because Harry's 'innocent' face differed from his 'scheming' face only by a slight widening of his eyes.

"Each portkey must be approved by the Ministry," Dumbledore said sternly, "and you cannot make a portkey until you have passed a test and been approved for a license."

Harry nodded with a disappointed sigh. It would have been easier if Dumbledore had just agreed to teach him, but Harry wasn't about to let a little thing like legality stop him. He was sure the restricted section would prove very helpful...

Dumbledore's eyes sparkled, and Harry suspected that the Headmaster knew exactly what was going through his mind.

"You know," Harry said blandly, "all that twinkling _can't_ be good for your health."

He had the dubious pleasure of seeing Dumbledore startled speechless, if only for a second.

"That sort of thing makes you go blind," he added, unable to stop himself. An odd strangled noise emerged from Draco's lips. Kingsley actually grinned, his teeth shockingly white against his brown skin.

Dumbledore...blushed.

"I don't understand," said one of the portraits - Armando Dippet was the inscription on the frame - in bewilderment.

"I'll explain when you're older," another portrait, Phineas Nigellus, drawled.

"I think," Kingsley said, his tone rich with laughter, "we should be leaving."

"Yes," Dumbledore agreed a little too quickly, still rather red-faced. "Perhaps you should."

Harry couldn't help it, he really couldn't. "You mean you aren't going to give me The Talk?" he asked, blinking. "But you've just adopted me, right? It's your job to tell me about that sort of thing."

Draco wheezed and Kingsley closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands. A little voice in the back of Harry's mind crowed in victory - he'd actually managed to ruffle the supposedly imperturbable auror!

Dumbledore, however, had gotten over his embarrassment, and now had a rather demonic light shining in his eyes.

"The Talk?" he repeated, bushy eyebrows rising. "Very well, then." Harry's eyes widened in horror and Draco blanched. "Now, there are wands, and there are holsters..."

Five minutes later, a mortified Harry vowed solemnly to never, ever, _ever_ again bait Dumbledore. "Wands and holsters indeed," he muttered as he grabbed the portkey.

"I hate you," an equally scarred-for-life Draco said, shuddering.

Kingsley, the bastard, only laughed.

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_Think where man's glory most begins and ends,_

_And say my glory was I had such friends. _

_-William Butler Yeats_

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Despite having been held up by The Talk, which Harry and Draco quickly agreed to never mention again, they were among the first to arrive at Platform Nine and Three Quarters.

"Wotcher, Harry!" a little blond girl greeted them with a grin before she was shushed by an older woman stationed nearby. The girl was no doubt Tonks in disguise, while the older woman was likely another auror.

"She doesn't have a discreet bone in her shapeshifting body," Draco lamented with a shake of his bottle-blond head. Of course, he'd likely castrate Harry if it was ever suggested that he dyed or charmed his hair color.

"Draco," Harry said patiently, "you're about as subtle as a hippogriff."

"I am not!" Draco protested, stung.

"Well, all right," Harry grudgingly allowed. "You're not. You're actually far less subtle than a hippogriff."

Draco haughtily pulled out his prefect's badge and flashed it at Harry, who rolled his eyes at this blatant and rather pitiful attempt at intimidation.

"Go on, both of you," Shacklebolt said with an amused smile. "I'll be over near the barrier."

"Tired of us already?" Harry asked, feigning hurt.

"Yes."

Harry blinked, and then glanced at an equally bemused Draco.

"Well, that was blunt," Harry said.

"Oh, come on," Draco replied, grabbing Harry's arm in a most unMalfoy-ish manner and pulling him towards a small group of sniggering Slytherins gathered near the train. "Leave the poor man alone, Harry."

"But it's my duty to be a pain in the arse," Harry protested, striking a noble pose and forcing Draco to halt. The bandana wrapped around his forehead rather detracted from the overall effect.

"Good grief," Draco muttered as people began to stare. "Potter, you're ruining my reputation."

Harry laughed. "The horror. How will you ever survive?" He was already in a better spirits than he'd been in weeks. Hell, he could even breathe easier! Clearly, Harry decided, he was allergic to Umbridge.

"Bastard," Draco growled, once again pulling Harry towards the other Slytherins. Harry went along reluctantly, dragging his feet- not because he didn't want to meet the Slytherins, but because he wanted to annoy the hell out of his friend.

"Draco, who on earth is this?" a hard-faced girl demanded once they'd reached the small group. She looked down her rather squashed nose at Harry, who was, after all, dressed like a muggle. Like a poor muggle, at that - his clothes, while clean, were scruffy and worn. And just what sort of person wore a bandana like that?

The two boys exchanged a slightly surprised glance - the Slytherins didn't seem to be trying to exclude them, so they obviously didn't know about Draco's rebellion. Unless they just didn't care, but that wasn't likely at all.

"Pansy," Draco greeted the girl coolly. "This is my good friend Ace."

Pansy's face scrunched up, and for a moment she looked frighteningly like a disgruntled pug. "Ace?" she repeated disdainfully.

"That's right," Harry agreed with his most charming smile. Pansy went from contemptuous to flustered in record time.

"Slut," Draco insulted Harry, just loud enough for the green-eyed boy to hear.

"Drama queen," Harry whispered back.

"Man whore."

"Diva."

Other than Pansy, there were a couple fifth years, one yellow-toothed, red-faced seventh year, and two trollish lumps apparently known as Crabbe and Goyle. Harry resisted the urge to poke them with a stick to see if they were actually alive, as they spent the next five minutes staring with glazed eyes at the train. Harry could literally hear his brain cells begging for mercy when he finally sighted Theodore.

"Oh, there's Theo," Harry said just a little too brightly, cutting off Pansy as she ranted about the 'horrid state of wizarding fashion'. "Off to say hi!" He and Draco made good their escape before Pansy and the others quite understood what had happened.

Theodore's father left almost immediately, probably nervous from the glares he was getting from the various aurors on guard. Theodore himself looked bored as he slowly dragged his trunk towards the Express, and he stopped moving completely when he saw Harry and Draco headed his way.

"Merlin have mercy," Harry heard the dark-haired boy groan in despair.

"Aren't you happy to see us?" Harry asked innocently.

Theodore snorted. "With the kind of trouble that follows the both of you around? Not likely."

Harry tsked. "That's no way to greet an old friend, Theo."

"Theodore. Not Theo. And Ace - or rather, Harry - you're an annoyance, not an old friend."

"So you figured it out, then," Harry asked, suddenly serious. He glanced around the platform and noted with relief that no one was close enough to have overheard Theodore's statement...though the three of them were getting a lot of odd looks.

"It wasn't exactly hard," Theodore pointed out with a shrug. "You write me, saying you're at Hogwarts...and there's an article in the Prophet at around the same time, claiming Harry Potter has been found and is in Dumbledore's custody... It's rather obvious, really, who you are."

"Bet Longbottom hasn't figured it out," Draco said snidely. Harry glared at him.

"Draco, leave it," he said sharply. "Don't insult my friends."

Draco harrumphed but didn't argue.

"You know," Theodore said thoughtfully, "you're the only person Draco has ever actually listened to or obeyed. Other than Lucius, of course, but family doesn't really count."

Harry grinned. "It's my natural superiority shining through," he informed the brown-eyed Slytherin. "Draco knows that I'm better than him, so- Ow! Bloody hell!"

Draco smirked as Harry clutched his ribs. He tried not to let on that his elbow had collided with the handle of one of Harry's hidden daggers, and as a result now ached rather badly.

"There's Longbottom," Theodore said before the two could start fighting in earnest. Harry's head snapped up and he peered around, craning his neck as he tried to catch sight of his friend.

"By the barrier," Theodore supplied, and then yawned. "It's too bloody early to be up," he grumbled, catching Draco's amused glance. He stretched, his shirt slipping to reveal a glint of gold around his neck.

"What's that?" Harry asked curiously.

"Hmm?"

"Your pretty necklace," Harry supplied.

Theo shot him a dirty look as Draco sniggered. "Amulet, Potter. My father gave it to me - it's supposed to protect me."

"I thought your father didn't believe in frivolous things like gifts," Draco remarked, amused.

Theo shrugged. "Don't expect me to understand my father. Merlin only knows why he does the things he does." Though it was masked, there was a hint of bitterness in the dark-haired Slytherin's voice.

"Harry, why don't you go talk to Longbottom," Draco suggested, still watching Theodore.

"Right," Harry said gratefully, suspecting his friend wanted to talk to Theo in private. Draco was one of the few people who could coax Theodore out of his darker moods. "I'll be back in a moment. Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone, Draco."

"What, do you have a monopoly on idiocy or something?" Draco asked snidely, but Harry was already off, ducking and weaving through the growing crowd of Hogwarts students, harried parents, and tearful younger siblings.

"He has far too much energy," Theodore observed as Harry darted around an enormous woman who was noisily blowing her nose while bidding her mortified daughter adieu. The dark-haired Slytherin stretched languidly before plopping down on his trunk.

"Quite," Draco agreed.

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_A man learns to skate by staggering about making a fool of himself; indeed, he progresses in all things by making a fool of himself. _

_-George Bernard Shaw_

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Neville caught sight of Harry while he was still several meters away, and promptly tripped over his own feet and landed on his face.

"Merlin and Morgana, boy," his grandmother said in exasperation as several people laughed, "can't you even walk properly?"

Bright red with embarrassment, Neville started to stand, only to lose his balance and wobble. Fortunately, someone grabbed his arm to steady him, and he retained his footing. Miserable and blushing more deeply than ever, Neville looked at his rescuer.

Harry Potter.

Or rather, Ace, but Neville wasn't a complete idiot, and it hadn't been hard to figure out who his friend was after all the newspaper articles.

"Thanks," Neville muttered, uncertain what Ace - no, Harry - would do next. They'd always gotten along just fine...but now Harry was going to Hogwarts, where he'd be popular and famous and Neville himself would still be nothing but the chubby, awkward outcast of Gryffindor.

Then Harry smiled - the same crooked smile as always - and Neville knew everything would be all right. He wasn't used to the upsurge of confidence he felt then, but he liked it, and figured it was one more reason to be grateful to Ace, or Harry, or whatever his name was.

"Did you get my letter?" Harry asked, letting go of Neville's arm and stepping back out of his personal space. Out of the corner of his eye, Neville saw his grandmother's eyes narrow; she hadn't been pleased when he'd received Harry's letter and refused to tell her who it was from.

"Yeah," Neville agreed with a shy smile, still a bit astonished that Harry Potter - Harry Potter! - was talking to him like a friend in front of everyone. Neville wasn't used to being friends with Harry Potter, and he hoped it wouldn't be too different from being friends with Ace.

Harry's smile widened briefly, before he turned to Neville's grandmother. The change that came over the other boy was enough to stun Neville into silence - he'd never seen that icy smooth expression on his friend's face before. Ace - no, Harry - had always been nothing other than kind and gentle with Neville.

What Neville didn't realize, though, was that he was an exception to the rule and that there were very few people with whom Harry showed any sort of patience.

"Madam Longbottom, I presume?" Harry asked coolly.

"I am," Neville's grandmother agreed curtly. "And you are?"

"I'm called Ace," Harry said.

The woman sniffed. "Neville, you're friends with this - this ruffian?"

Neville loved his grandmother, he really did. She was impatient, overbearing, and rather brusque, yes, but he knew she cared for him. Nevertheless, he wouldn't tolerate her insulting Ace - insulting the only real friend he'd ever had.

"He's not a ruffian," Neville said staunchly, standing up to his grandmother for the first time he could remember.

To his private astonishment, his grandmother didn't seem angry once she got over her shock. In fact, she looked almost...relieved? And a bit proud? Neville was utterly befuddled. He snuck a glance at Harry, and saw that his friend was wearing a smug smile.

"You said you're called Ace," Isabelle Longbottom said shrewdly, her attention returning to Harry. "But is that your name, lad?"

Harry's smile grew a little sharper. "No. My name is Harry Potter."

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_We cherish our friends not for their ability to amuse us, but for ours to amuse them. _

_-Evelyn Waugh_

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Luna arrived about fifteen minutes later, her father strolling along beside her. Harry abandoned Neville to Theo and Draco's tender mercies and went to greet his last Hogwarts friend.

"Ah, Ace," her father said with a genial smile. "Or should I say Harry?"

Harry grinned at Mister Lovegood and said, "Harry's good." Robert Lovegood was a nice bloke, if a bit absentminded and credulous.

"Luna always insisted you were Harry Potter," Robert chuckled.

Surprised, Harry turned to the eccentric blond girl, who shrugged and said, "It was really very obvious. You were clearly either Harry Potter or a Shapeshifting Shnargle."

"...right," Harry agreed belatedly, blinking.

Smiling, Robert turned to his daughter and said, "Why don't you get on the train? I'd like to speak with Harry alone for a few minutes."

Luna blinked, then nodded. "All right."

Robert leaned down to press a gentle kiss to her hair, hugging her tightly. "Have a good year, love."

Luna smiled dreamily up at her father. "Of course I will. The Jimjoms told me so." She grabbed her worn old trunk and started off for the Express, ignoring a few cries of 'there's Loony!'

Harry frowned.

"As you can see," Robert said quietly and a bit sadly as his daughter made her way through the crowd, "Luna's not exactly popular. She's teased rather badly by just all of her fellow students, and she's had some trouble with that Defense teacher, too."

"Umbridge," Harry said darkly. "I've had my share of problems with her."

"Luna won't tell me exactly what happened," Robert sighed, "but apparently Professor Umbridge insulted the Quibbler at some point during the year, and Luna tried to defend it. None of her classmates would help, of course, as they all seem to think she's a bit strange."

"I'll look out for her, if that's what you wanted to talk to me about," Harry promised. "She's my friend, after all, even if she can be a bit, er, odd."

Robert smiled fondly and patted him on the shoulder. "You're a good lad, Harry, I've said so from the start."

Harry shrugged awkwardly, feeling a blush coming on. "I'm not all that good. Do you have any idea how many laws I've broken in the last few months alone?"

"I could probably make an educated guess," Robert replied, amused. "Now run along; Luna's waiting for you."

In truth, Luna wasn't waiting for him, at least not on the train. Instead, she was with Neville, Theodore, and Draco.

"Figured you'd want us to keep an eye on her," Theodore said calmly. He really was very clever and perceptive, much more so than most people Harry knew.

Luna was sitting on her trunk, doing a crossword puzzle in an old copy of the Quibbler. Neville was trying to edge away from Luna without coming too close to Draco, and Draco himself was glowering at anyone who dared look too long at the odd group.

"My reputation is officially ruined," the platinum blond prefect complained with a scowl.

"My heart bleeds," Harry said dryly. "Neville, Draco hasn't been bothering you at all, has he?"

Neville quickly shook his head, while Draco glared at Harry, offended.

"Good," Harry approved, patting Draco on the head. Snarling, Draco batted Harry's hand away. Grinning, Harry continued, "It's getting late; we should probably get on the - holy crapsicle on a stick, be still my beating heart."

Draco, Theodore, and Neville followed his gaze. Luna began to hum tunelessly under her breath as she filled out the crossword puzzle.

"Let me just say, they sure don't make 'em like that on the streets," Harry murmured, eying a pair of gorgeous girls that had just come through the barrier.

"Gryffindors," Draco snorted. "McKierney and Weasley. McKierney's the blond, Weasley's the redhead."

"And what lovely Gryffindors they are," Harry commented appreciatively. Theodore rolled his eyes.

"McKierney and Weasley!" Draco squawked, horrified. "Potter, McKierney's a half-blood! And Weasley, she's _poor!_ And from a family of muggle-lovers!"

Harry finally turned his attention from the girls back to Draco. "Stop being a prejudiced bastard, Draco. In case you've forgotten, my mother was muggleborn and _I'm _a half-blood."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Yes, and in case you've forgotten, your mother's muggle relatives locked you in a cupboard under the stairs for five years."

Harry, less than pleased with his friend for bringing up the Dursleys, sent a death glare at the prefect. Draco paled.

"Alison McKierney doesn't date at all, and Ginny Weasley's already got a boyfriend," Neville piped up, saving the blond Slytherin from extreme pain.

Harry sighed, disappointed. "Doesn't date? Why not?"

"She says males our age are immature and get in the way of her studies and friendships," Luna said calmly.

Harry grimaced. "Ah. And Weasley has a boyfriend?"

"Oh yes. Ever since the middle of last year," Luna agreed.

"Eh. I'm sure she'll realize the error of her ways and jump me."

Draco gave a heartfelt groan.

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_You can't make a person love you...you can only stalk them and hope for the best._

_-Anonymous_

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An hour into the train ride, Draco announced it was time for his annual "Visit the Weasel and annoy the hell out of him" session. Harry agreed to accompany him, mostly so he could stop things from getting out of hand.

"Yes, because you're ever so responsible and mature," Draco said with a snort.

Weasley wasn't alone in his compartment; a pretty blond girl was in there with him, as well as his sister and a boy with mousy brown hair who was apparently the Weasley girl's boyfriend. Both Weasleys had the same bright red hair as the rest of their family; the girl had their mother's brown eyes, while her brother's were the same blue as their father's.

"Malfoy," Weasley spat the moment the compartment door slid open. "What the hell do you want?" Harry noted that all four of the compartment's occupants were wearing prefect badges.

"Now, now, Weasel," Draco drawled in a way that made even his best friend want to strangle him, "didn't your mother teach you any manners? But that's right...Weasleys have no money _or_ class."

Ron Weasley snarled, and both he and Ginny Weasley stood and drew their wands, flushed with anger. The blond girl squeaked, eyes wide, while Ginny's boyfriend eyed Draco nervously.

"That's enough," Harry said, shooting his friend a reproving look. He rather liked the Weasleys, after all - especially the twins and Bill.

"Who're you?" Weasley demanded while Draco sulked.

"Ace," Harry said curtly, not wanting to be gaped at any more than necessary. "And I apologize for my moron of a friend, here." Draco's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"You're friends with Malfoy?" the Weasley girl asked incredulously, her wand still at the ready. Harry approved- it never hurt to be cautious.

"Unfortunately," he replied with a flirtatious smile. Ginny blushed lightly but didn't back down.

"What kind of name is 'Ace'?" Weasley - Ron, Harry reminded himself - asked with a poor attempt at a sneer.

"It's a nickname," Harry said dryly. "Draco, why don't you introduce me to everyone?" He glanced pointedly at Ginny Weasley, whose eyebrows rose in bemused interest. The boyfriend bristled.

"Ace, meet the scum of Hogwarts. Scum, meet Ace."

"Draco," Harry said warningly as both Weasleys went red again.

"Fine," Draco snapped. "Ronald Weasley, Ginevra Weasley, Hannah Abbott, and Colin Creevey." He pointed to each in turn, sneering contemptuously when he came to Creevey.

"Ginevra," Harry repeated slowly, a smile spreading across his face. "Lovely name for a lovely girl."

"I go by Ginny, thanks," the girl said tartly as Creevey and Ronald scowled at him.

"I'll stick with Ginevra all the same," Harry replied, smirking. She really was very pretty, with her freckles and large...brown eyes.

Said eyes narrowed dangerously, but she didn't protest - something that had her brother and boyfriend gaping. Noting their reactions, Harry winked at Ginny and sauntered out of the compartment, and irritated Draco following behind.

"You know," he commented to his angry friend, "this year's starting to look better and better."

"A _Weasley_," Draco muttered in response. "Might as well chase after a mudblood."

Harry froze before turning furiously on Draco, who paled and backed away. "If you say that word one more time," he said coldly, "then I will hurt you. Badly."

Draco, to his credit, looked a bit ashamed. "Sorry," he said rather petulantly.

Relaxing, Harry offered Draco a twisted smile. "Me too. I've been a bit, ah, overly aggressive lately, haven't I?"

"Yes," the blond Slytherin agreed shortly. "I know you've got a lot to deal with, Harry, but you're taking things a bit far, don't you think? Normally you would never have gotten into a duel with that trainee, not without knowing his capabilities and strength. And lately you've been snapping at people and baiting everyone you come across."

Harry winced, knowing the other boy was - for once - telling nothing but the truth. "Right," he sighed. "I just...this is all so new, you know? I mean, I've spent the last ten years fending for myself, and now I'm stuck in a castle, under Dumbledore's thumb. I like him fine, don't get me wrong, but it's...frustrating."

Draco failed to look sympathetic. "Deal with it, Potter. Because your endless tantrums are getting on everyone's nerves."

"Gee, you say the _nicest_ things," Harry snarked. Draco rolled his eyes, but then they were both grinning at each other, and Harry knew everything would turn out all right.

"Get a girlfriend if you want to be flattered," the Slytherin said. "One who _isn't _a Weasley."

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_He deserves Paradise who makes his companions laugh. _

_-Qur'an _

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The rest of the ride was fairly boring, though it was amusing watching Neville's reactions to Luna. The boy was positively terrified of the odd girl, and was greatly alarmed by some of her unusual theories.

Strangely enough, Theodore and Luna got along very well. Draco was disgusted.

"So how does this Sorting business go?" Harry asked when they were about a half hour away from the school. They'd all changed into their robes; only Harry's were plain, without a house crest.

"Oh, it's very painful," Draco said earnestly. "No one's died yet, thank Circe, but there have been injuries."

Harry rolled his eyes.

"I heard someone was put in a coma," Neville said solemnly. Harry's jaw dropped - Draco would lie, certainly, but not Neville!

"One of the current seventh years," Theo agreed with a nod. "She didn't wake for two weeks."

"Luna," Harry said, swallowing nervously, "please tell me they're joking."

Luna finally looked up from the Quibbler and fixed her large blue eyes on her friend. "They're joking," she assured him, and he started to relax. "She was only in a coma for three days."

Harry paled.

Draco burst into laughter and Theodore snickered. Neville chuckled quietly to himself, while Luna smiled absently and returned to her reading.

Glowering, Harry informed them, "You're all disowned as my friends."

Unfortunately, this just made them laugh harder.

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_If I had all the money I've spent on drink, I'd spend it on drink. _

_-Stanshall Vivian_

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Harry got quite a few odd looks when he went with the first years to meet Hagrid. Though he wasn't exactly tall, he was certainly higher up that the midget eleven year olds.

Hagrid, of course, dwarfed them all.

"'Arry," the half-giant said with a fond smile. "Ye get a boat all to yerself. Don't want yer to scare the liddle 'uns, eh?"

The two of them hadn't met until the day after Umbridge arrived. Hagrid caught Harry hiding from Umbridge at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, where the Defense Professor would never, ever go - not while it was filled with half-breeds. The two had bonded over their mutual disgust for the Undersecretary, and Harry had even managed to wheedle a little firewhiskey out of the big softy.

"But it's so much fun to frighten them," Harry said, amused. Hagrid laughed.

Harry rather liked Hagrid's laugh. It was big and booming and warm, completely unlike any other laugh he'd ever heard. Hagrid was, more than anyone else Harry had ever met, the complete antithesis of all things Dursley. He was wild and messy and cheerful and kind, and would have given Petunia a heart attack at first sight.

Hmm. Perhaps he'd have to test that at some point...

The boat ride was fun, especially as Harry didn't have to share with any snot-nosed first years. He got to stretch out and stare up at the night sky as the vessel made its way smoothly across the lake.

Harry found the dog star, Sirius, and smiled a bit wistfully as he wondered what his godfather and Remus were doing at that moment. They'd promised to visit sometime during the beginning of the school year, and Harry was definitely looking forward to it - especially as they were planning on giving his Animagus form a name...though why they needed an extended period of time to come up with one measly name, Harry couldn't say.

Both remaining Marauders had been utterly delighted when they'd discovered he was an Animagus. "Like father, like son," Sirius had said proudly, and for once Remus had nodded in agreement rather than scold the ex-convict about confusing Harry and James.

Fortunately, Sirius was slowly coming to understand - and accept - that Harry wasn't his father and was in fact a very different person indeed.

He was startled out of his musings when the boat jerked to a sudden stop. Harry clambered out, following the first years as they headed towards the castle. He trailed behind everyone, in an unusually peaceful state of mind.

Allergies to Umbridge aside, he was beginning to think that this school thing wouldn't be a total disaster after all.

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Review Responses!

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**Nimbirosa - **with each passing day, you make less and less sense. -runs and hides-

**shazia)Riavera - **'Invictus' is Latin for 'unconquered', I believe. I mostly just used that as the title because I like the poem and had no other ideas for a name.

**Herald-Mage Brianna - **McKay is probably my favorite SGA character, and I adored him back when he was on SG-1, as well. But I'm afraid I'm a Sheppard/Weir shipper, if anything. If I gotta pair McKay, then I'd do it with the Scottish doctor (dammit, can't remember his name...) I gotta say, Teyla annoys me. She seems like a cheap female version of Teal'c.

**CannonFodder - **I rewrote the confrontation about ten times until he wasn't quite so bad. And I really don't think this story will get stuck in permanent hiatus, but you never know, so fingers crossed.

**Larna Mandrea - **Your love is returned tenfold.

**The Slice - **Dude. You've been flooding my inbox with reviews. Please continue. Grin.

**Stahchild - **You mean my fic isn't intellectually challenging? Oh no!

**dress-without-sleeves - **Leander fan, I take it? I'm surprised there's so many of you. Personally, I'm not overly fond of him. Anywho, I do try to keep most people IC. I don't want to rape canon, just do really kinky but entirely consensual things (possibly involving handcuffs and feathers) to it. But perhaps I'mReallyALesbianWoman!Snape could make an appearance...

**Von - **This chapter is about as fanon!Ginny as she gets. After this, she's MY Ginny, who is so much cooler, mostly because she doesn't talk nearly as much as fanon!Ginny.

**gatogirl1 - **Correcting Harry's faults? I hadn't even thought of that, but now that I reread the chapters I've already posted, I think you might be right. I loved book five Harry, but that wasn't really what I wanted for this...and I think I did go a little overboard in separating the two. And I like Umbridge. She's fun as hell to write.

**SensiblyTainted - **Ashamed to admit you love my story? Well that's a backhanded compliment if I've ever seen one... Grins. (psst. i'm ashamed to admit i love it, too. comes across as a bit smug and narcissistic)

Thanks also to: **athenakitty, neferseba, Quillian, HecateDeMort, JerseyPike, Lil Ole Me 97, LadyShilver, BrattyWitch, ERMonkey Burner of Cookies, azntgr01, donna ficfan, bandgsecurtiyaw, Julie Long, HeWhoComesWithTheDawn, japanese-jew, IndiaInk, Night-Owl123, SeekerTLK, Tinkering, SunflowerLynx, Kara, RebelHanyouofDarkness, Crissy Potter, ShAdOwAdRiA, Surarrin, e, D3, T.I.Phoenix, insanechildfanfic, methoslover, my hero, Bloodless Ace, Lady11Occult, mysterywalker, GaLlOpInGaRgOyLeS, GreyGranian, Daughter of Darkness777, yo-yo55d, kobe23, bobskull9, Heather, Letishia, A-man, Talons, emikae, Gryphnwng, Kaori Bibishii, samuraiduck27, Munching Munchkin Managem, triplecrown, yvonne, Weirkat, Tim Digidestined of Loyalty, MysterioX, Mattel-chan, Siri Kat, bibble, tweeny-weeny, movielvr, Pretty Padfoot, zafaran, Fate, Firehedgehog, Team Graecisso, Dark Whispers, ivan the terrable, Deh Vap, marideth, Shadowface, DollyGall, darkanglefrmhell, Monaki-cheung, Bongie, Kazco, Jeah, Cherrysinger, baileygirl42, brokentoy19, latin-freak, ZergMaster, peoples, I)ark/-)ngel, Sukera, Danaan, Lady Urguenthia, chekiita, risi, HoldOnTillForever, AyamexKouga, Meggplant, Lady-Snape7, SeleneA, Wren Truesong, Rkhiara, Nooka, dead feather, Zevrillion, thedarklordsonlyheir, yellow eyes, ardent, Inken, m-girls, LPEJ, Lady Addiction, hee hee, yuya-chan, Makieus, and Starr-Light1.**


	11. Chapter Ten: And the Sorting Hat Said

Disclaimer: Nope, not mine.

FAQs and previews will continue to be posted on my Livejournal.

Nimbirosa and M'cha Araem are the bestest betas in the world, as has (finally!) been acknowledged by at least two reviewers. Say thanks, everyone.

FYI, requesting a pairing really won't do much. I'm afraid I've already got Harry's significant other picked out, and have from the very beginning. Please read the FAQs at my LJ or ANs of previous chapters to find out which pairings I've said I won't write, as well as other little tidbits, such as the meaning of the title and so on.

IMPORTANT: For those of you who have asked me to read and review your stories - I'll try to get around to it eventually. But, as I've said, I have very little free time at the moment, and when I do have free time, Invictus is my priority. So please don't feel I'm ignoring you if I haven't read your story - I swear I'll do my best to once I have some time on my hands.

And finally - my eighteenth birthday is tomorrow! YES!

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**Chapter Ten: And the Sorting Hat Said...**

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_Nothing is more difficult, and therefore more precious, than to be able to decide. _

_-Napoleon Bonaparte_

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Harry should have felt self-conscious, as he was the only teenager in a crowd of tiny brats, but he found that the stares he garnered didn't much bother him. He was, after all, dead sexy - who wouldn't want to look at him?

His lips twitched, and if he hadn't been standing in the middle of the Great Hall watching the ickle first years be Sorted, he would have laughed at his own conceit. He was getting to be as bad as Draco.

...actually, no, he wasn't. No one was as vain as Draco, who spent, on average, well over an hour each morning before breakfast fixing his hair and primping himself.

Scanning the Great Hall (and couldn't the Founders have come up with a more original name?), he caught Ginny Weasley watching him. He nodded to her and winked. She rolled her eyes in response and turned back to her frowning boyfriend.

Creevey. Honestly, what kind of name was that? Any why would anyone want to date a kid that looked like a cross between man and mouse?

Deciding that trying to understand how the female mind worked was a complete waste of time, he went back to studying those present in the enormous chamber. Draco was trying to pry pug-girl - Pansy, Harry recalled with a shudder - off of his shoulder, and Theo was talking with a slender olive-skinned Slytherin boy. Luna was sitting at the very end of the Ravenclaw table, ignoring everything going on around her, and Neville was near the Weasleys at the Gryffindor table.

He wished for a moment that Leander could be there for his Sorting, no matter how ridiculous he privately thought the whole tradition was, but Dumbledore thought it would be best to keep the vampire out of sight for as long as possible. In fact, the Headmaster suggested that Leander stay hidden unless they had reason to believe Harry would be attacked. Leander hadn't been pleased - in fact, he'd been utterly furious - but Harry had agreed with Dumbledore.

"You can't follow me around everywhere," he'd told his old friend. "And besides, it'll be rather difficult for me to settle down and make friends if there's a vampire trailing me all the time."

Grimacing as he recalled Leander's resulting tantrum, Harry returned his attention to the dwindling line of eleven year olds. Ten more...five more...and then came The Announcement.

"Now, as you can all see," Dumbledore said cheerfully from the Head Table, "we have one more student left to Sort. Harry Potter will be joining the sixth years."

Utter silence filled the Hall. Harry glanced back over at the Gryffindors and saw that both Weasleys were gaping at him in disbelief. He waved mockingly at them before sauntering to the stool, where a thin-lipped McGonagall was waiting, hat in hand.

He eyed her a bit warily as he sat, wondering what had gotten her in a bad mood. As she handed him the Sorting Hat - and he was so going to kill his friends for insisting the Sorting was painful and dangerous - she leaned close and murmured, "Gryffindor, Potter. I've got a good few galleons riding on your placement."

Harry barely kept his jaw from dropping in surprise as she plopped the scruffy musical hat on his head. The teachers were gambling on his Sorting? Wasn't that unethical or something? And why hadn't he been allowed to place a bet?

_"Well, well, what have we here,"_ a voice said in his mind. _"You're an odd one...brave, very brave, but cautious as well... Not a bad mind, not a bad mind at all, and you've got power, boy."_

"Everyone here has power," Harry retorted, too softly for anyone but the hat to hear.

_"But not many are as strong as you. Cunning and courageous...an interesting mix indeed. What's this...a parselmouth? That tips the balance to SLYTH-"_

The hat paused for a second, then murmured a quiet, _"...but here, you aren't a parselmouth by nature, are you?" _before it finished aloud with, _"-INDOR!"_

"Slythindor!" Harry repeated loudly, outraged. "Oh, no, not a chance. You're going to Sort me into a proper House, and you're going to do it now, or I'll bloody well rip your stitch work out!"

Draco giggled, then immediately clapped a hand over his mouth, horrified that such a girlish, Hufflepuffish sound had escaped him.

"Ahem," McGonagall said, giving Harry a pointed glare. "Language, Potter," she added loudly, before continuing in a whisper, "I bet one hundred galleons, Potter, and the odds are good. I'll split the winnings with you."

Hmm...not bad. And there was the cute Weasley...and Neville to protect, of course.

_"Taking bribes? And you're a pushy one, aren't you. SLY-"_

"Gryffindor!" Harry yelped, cutting the hat off. He yanked it off his head before it could protest, handed it back to a bemused McGonagall, and strode to the Gryffindor table, situating himself between Neville and a lanky black boy.

"Be that way, then," the hat snapped from McGonagall's arms.

A scattered applause sounded from a few of the students, but most of them were busy trying to figure out if Harry's choice was valid - after all, the hat had been about to put him in Slytherin.

"Well, welcome to Gryffindor, Mister Potter," Dumbledore said, smiling in amusement.

After that, the applause came freely. Grinning, Harry glanced over at Neville, who looked extremely relieved, and then at Draco, who was scowling.

Down the table, a bushy-haired, bucktoothed girl was telling all and sundry, "That's only happened eight times before in the history of the school - the hat changing its mind mid-Sorting like that. And certainly no one has ever tried to Sort himself!"

Harry snorted, catching Ginny Weasley's attention. She and her boyfriend were across the table and a few seats down from him. "You're really Harry Potter, then?" she asked, head tilted to the side in interest.

"No," Harry deadpanned. "The name's Bond. James Bond. But I'm in disguise."

She frowned, but several students - including the black boy Harry was seated next to - laughed.

"Dean Thomas," the boy introduced himself with a friendly grin. "Muggleborn."

"Harry Potter," Harry replied, smiling. "Sex god."

The Gryffindor table fell silent, staring, until Neville burst out in laughter.

"Nice one," Ginny Weasley said dryly.

Harry fluttered his eyelashes. "Who said it was a joke?"

She snorted derisively, but he saw the corners of her lips twitch in amusement.

Yeah, this won't be so bad after all, Harry thought, satisfied. Not bad at all...

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_Maturity is knowing that just because someone disagrees with you doesn't mean he's a horse's ass. _

_-Harry S Truman_

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"Pay up," Minerva crowed as she seated herself at her customary position on Dumbledore's right.

"It hardly counts," Severus quickly protested. "The Sorting Hat was about to put him in Slytherin; you all heard it."

"You were betting on Potter's placement?" Umbridge asked, her voice honeyed. "Such unprofessional behavior..."

"But the boy _chose_ Gryffindor," Minerva said, ignoring Umbridge completely. She looked as self-satisfied as the cat that caught the canary - a particularly apt expression, in her case.

In fact, she was the reason the Weasley twins had invented canary creams. They'd thought it was amusing, making McGonagall the cat that _turned into _a canary. Of course, they'd been much less pleased with themselves after she'd given them a full two weeks of detention with Filch.

"Choice counts for nothing," the Potions Master snapped as the Defense Professor's eyes narrowed in anger at being ignored. "He's clearly a Slytherin in truth."

"Now, now, Severus," Filius squeaked, "the hat never protested Harry's decision. The Sorting is official. He's a Gryffindor." Flitwick had put thirty galleons on Harry becoming a Ravenclaw - after all, the boy knew his Charms so very well. He was secretly a bit disappointed, and not just because he'd lose a good bit of money.

Severus sneered.

"Oh, don't be such a sore loser, Severus," Minerva said with a smug smile. "Just because I got Potter-"

"I hardly care whether the boy is in my house," the relatively young man snapped.

"Then why all the fuss?" Minerva asked, amused.

Severus glared at her sourly. "He's wasted in Gryffindor."

"Not at all," Albus finally spoke up calmly as Umbridge sulked, no doubt thinking up a new Educational Decree forbidding teachers from betting and gambling. "I imagine Mister Potter would do well in either House, not that it ultimately matters. He is sixteen, after all, and much more set in his ways than an eleven year old child. He is unlikely to change due to peer pressure or house loyalties."

"Besides," Sprout said softly, glancing over at the boy in question, "I think this way is better for others, as well. Look at Neville, there - I've never seen him so animated or so confident. And perhaps it will do the Slytherins good, knowing there's a Gryffindor who is also, in a very real way, a Slytherin himself."

"A very good point, Pomona," Albus said amiably. "And, of course, the reverse is true - it will do the Gryffindors some good, being in close quarters with someone like Mister Potter. Gryffindors always have tended towards closed-mindedness, I'm afraid, and Harry could be just what the house needs to remedy that."

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_I know God will not give me anything I can't handle. I just wish that He didn't trust me so much. _

_-Mother Teresa of Calcutta _

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Immediately after the feast, Harry had to serve his first detention. Fortunately, Dumbledore had managed to arrange things so he would serve the first month with various teachers other than Umbridge. The toad-woman hadn't been pleased, but would have to make due with having Harry to herself for just the last four weeks of his punishment.

Four weeks was more than enough for Harry. In fact, the idea of spending any more time than absolutely necessary in Umbridge's company was revolting.

Muttering epithets under his breath, Harry slouched down the corridors towards McGonagall's office. His first week of detention was with her, the next two weeks were with Snape, and the fourth week was with Dumbledore himself.

Harry didn't mind having to spend time with the three professors - he quite liked McGonagall, got along tolerably well with Dumbledore, and even managed to stay on Snape's good side most of the time (or at least off of Snape's bad side) - but he wished he could be in Gryffindor Tower meeting his new housemates rather than with one of the teachers he'd been stuck near all summer.

McGonagall was seated behind her desk when Harry arrived, looking even more stern than usual. Harry was surprised, as the Transfiguration professor had fought the detentions tooth and nail.

"Potter," she greeted him with a short nod, "sit down. There are matters we need to discuss."

Warily, Harry seated himself in one of the two stiff-backed elegant crimson armchairs facing the desk. McGonagall leaned forward in her own seat and passed him a piece of parchment.

Curiously, he took the parchment and scanned over it, his eyebrows rising. "This can't be right," he said, dumbfounded. "There's no way this is right. I can't do all of this."

McGonagall sighed, her face briefly softening. "Mister Potter, I'm afraid that this is necessary. You are advanced, yes, but not nearly advanced enough to even hope of surviving an encounter with You-Know-Who."

"But all this?" Harry exclaimed, brandishing the schedule she'd given him. "There's not enough time in the day for me to attend my regular classes _and_ extra lessons! Especially not with Umbridge apparently thinking I need a detention every single night of the entire bloody year!"

"Language, Potter," McGonagall reprimanded him, though she looked sympathetic. "This first month, you will be given lessons during your detentions. That won't be possible next month, when Professor Umbridge will be overseeing you, so you will be given a time-turner, which you are to use _only when necessary_."

Harry stared at her blankly. "A what?"

McGonagall opened a drawer and pulled out a small hourglass attached to a silver chain. "This, Potter, is a time-turner. Using it, you will be able to travel up to twelve hours back in time, thus giving you more time to complete all your schoolwork as well as attend extra lessons. You will need to be very careful in using it, however - not too long ago a student was given one of these, as she was taking an unusually large course load, and ended up having a nervous breakdown at the end of the year. I trust you will do better."

Harry listened in a daze as his new Head of House explained how the device functioned, as well as the various time-travel laws in effect that he would have to follow. He'd never even imagined something like a time-turner could exist.

"Any questions?" McGonagall asked when she was done lecturing. She handed the time-turner to Harry, who quickly tucked it away in a pocket.

"Er, yeah, actually I do have a question," Harry said, glancing at his schedule. "What exactly are all these extra classes?"

McGonagall pursed her lips. "Advanced Charms and Transfigurations should be obvious enough. Dueling, as well. Occlumency and Legilimency are magics of the mind; Occlumency allows you to shield your thoughts from others, while Legilimency allows you to look into another's mind."

"Why on earth do I need to learn all that?" Harry demanded.

"You and Headmaster Dumbledore are the only ones who know the complete prophecy, Mister Potter, and You-Know-Who is a Legilimens," McGonagall said grimly. "The Headmaster is an accomplished Occlumens, able to repel even the strongest of attacks, which leaves you as the obvious easy target. Sooner or later, You-Know-Who will invade your mind in an attempt to learn the specifics of the prophecy, even if he isn't certain you've been told anything useful. That clearly cannot be allowed to happen. Not only do you know the prophecy, but you are also aware of certain Order secrets that, if known to You-Know-Who, could prove disastrous."

Snape. Harry knew that Snape was a spy - and the Potions Master would be a dead man walking if Voldemort ever found out.

"I imagine Albus himself will explain to you why he wants you to learn Legilimency," she continued. "Rest assured, he has a good reason. But Potter, you need to understand that mind magic is highly illegal for minors to learn. Professors Dumbledore and Snape could be imprisoned for teaching you. So you must not tell anyone about those lessons, not unless you are prepared to put your life - and the lives of others - in their hands."

His mouth dry and his throat tight, Harry nodded wordlessly. But he had an odd feeling that there was something McGonagall wasn't telling him about the Occlumency and Legilimency lessons, something important.

"This last class, Wandless Magic, what about that?" he asked when he could speak again. He wasn't used to having any real responsibilities, and all of this was beginning to overwhelm him.

McGonagall sat back in her chair, studying him thoughtfully. "What do you know about Wandless Magic, Mister Potter?" she asked.

Harry's brow furrowed as he tried to recall what he'd read on the subject. "I just know that every witch and wizard has the potential to use wandless magic," he said with a shrug, "though not everyone can control it."

"Most people are either not powerful enough or disciplined enough to do so," McGonagall agreed with a nod. "Others can control their magic well enough to cast wandless spells, but only minor ones - a lumos here, a wingardium leviosa there. But with a good deal of training to support your impressive innate power, I dare say you'll eventually be able to cast spells wandless as well as you do with a wand."

Harry frowned, troubled. Being unique was all well and good, but there _were _limits. "Exactly how rare is wandless magic?"

"About half of the wizarding population can cast minor spells wandlessly, though it is draining," McGonagall responded. "And there are about three dozen wizards and witches living who don't need a wand at all. There are perhaps another few hundred wizards and witches who have the potential to become a fully trained wandless mage, but have not yet done so. I believe you are one of them."

Sighing, Harry ran a hand over his eyes, feeling oddly weary. "Right," he muttered. "That's just wonderful." He knew he should be glad - ecstatic, even - to have another useful skill, another hidden weapon, but for the moment he just wished people would stop springing these kinds of things on him.

The professor smiled sadly. "I realize we are asking a great deal of you, Mister Potter, and that we are burdening you with responsibilities no teenager should have to bear. But my colleagues and I would all rather see you burdened than dead."

"Same here," Harry said dryly. "I do know why this is needed, Professor. I just...I just wish it was someone else in the prophecy."

Whatever he was expecting, it wasn't for McGonagall to say, "And I am quite relieved _you _are the one in the prophecy." He stared, and she huffed and explained, "Mister Potter, I would much rather it be you than one of your peers. Frankly, you have a much better chance of surviving - and succeeding - than any of your classmates. I would not want the fate of the wizarding world to rest in less than capable hands."

Something warm filled Harry - something completely unexpected, and full of fluffy happy feeling that really should have disgusted him but instead made him want to grin like a loon. Because McGonagall was looking at him with a sort of motherly pride, something he'd never seen before, at least not directed at him.

"Stop," he said with a quirky smile, "before you make me blush."

His professor chuckled. "Mister Potter, I imagine it would take a great deal more than a few compliments to make you blush."

Harry laughed, relaxing. "Probably. So did everyone pay up?"

"Yes," McGonagall said with glittering eyes and a self-satisfied smile. "Though Professor Snape was rather reluctant, I'm afraid. Such a grumpy man..."

"How much did you win?" Harry asked, even as a part of him wondered what Snape would do to someone who called him grumpy to his face. Eviscerate them, he supposed.

"Three hundred galleons, total," McGonagall said, almost smirking. "One hundred and fifty of that will go to you, as per our agreement."

"You really are turning into a Slytherin, Professor," Harry commented, amused.

"My dear 'Slythindor', you are hardly one to talk."

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_No matter how great your triumphs or how tragic your defeats -- approximately 1.5 billion Chinese couldn't care less. _

_-Lazlo's Chinese Relativity Axiom _

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The rest of Harry's detention was spent on Advanced Transfigurations, which was basically learning to use Transfigurations in a battle situation.

"Frankly, the Headmaster would be a better choice to teach you this," McGonagall informed her student, "but he's a busy man, and he barely has time enough to teach your Dueling class, as it is."

"But you're the Transfiguration teacher," Harry pointed out.

"Yes, and while I am quite good in my chosen field, if I may say so myself, the Headmaster is better - especially when it comes to using Transfigurations defensively and offensively."

The first order of business was learning to conjure walls, which Harry soon discovered was extremely difficult. Even simple conjurations were tricky, and creating something large and tough enough to withstand an attack was nigh impossible. Or so it seemed to Harry, who was rapidly growing frustrated with his lack of success.

"Why can't I just use a magical shield?" he demanded irritably on his upteenth failed attempt.

"Magical shields don't block unforgivables, as you should already know," McGonagall said, completely without pity. "Try again."

Finally, finally, he managed a wall - but it crumbled into nothing at the first hex thrown its way.

"Don't be discouraged," McGonagall said as Harry glowered at the dusty remains of his flimsy brick wall. "Very few of your fellow sixth years are capable of any conjurations, Potter, and even a weak wall is enough to save you from the Killing Curse."

"But not from two Killing Curses in a row," Harry retorted moodily but accurately. "I need to be able to do a much better job, Professor."

"I agree," she said calmly. "But there is no use brooding over failure. Keep trying, and eventually you'll get it right."

In the end, Harry only managed to conjure one more wall, and it was only marginally sturdier than the first. He tried to take McGonagall's words to heart and not work himself into a temper over his inability to cast the spell correctly, but his efforts were mostly in vain.

"Very good," McGonagall praised him when they were finished. He snorted derisively. "Potter..."

"Sorry," he muttered reluctantly. McGonagall's hard stare softened into something approaching affection.

"We'll work more on it tomorrow, Harry. Now go on; I'm sure you don't want to spend the entire evening with me."

"Well, if you have any more biscuits..."

She chuckled. "Keep that up and you'll lose your girlish figure, Potter."

"Who're you calling girly?" he cried in mock offense.

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_People are morons. I don't have any other explanation. I really don't. _

_-Joss Whedon_

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Harry ran to get to Gryffindor Tower as quickly as he could, even though it was already well after curfew. He didn't want to get stuck with another week of detention, not when there was the slightest chance he'd have to serve it with Umbridge.

Unfortunately, he wasn't watching where he was going and ended up colliding with the youngest Weasley right in front of the Fat Lady's portrait. They both went tumbling down in a tangle of limbs and curses (not the magical kind) while Ronald Weasley and Creevey looked on in alarm.

Harry yelped when, in an attempt to untangle herself, Ginevra kneed him right in the groin.

"Oh god, I'm sorry," she babbled, eyes wide. "I really didn't mean to-"

"It's all right," Harry croaked, finally managing to roll off the girl and clamber to his feet. He held out a hand for the redhead and pulled her up, wondering why she and the other two were out of the common room after curfew in the first place. He mentally shrugged, more concerned with the girl herself than her recent activities.

"Come here often?" Harry asked, waggling his eyebrows. Ginny stared at him incredulously, as if she couldn't believe he'd just said what he had.

"Well, seeing as this is the hallway right outside the common room, I'd have to say 'yes'," she replied slowly, trying not smile.

"Are you flirting with my sister?" Ron demanded, outraged, while Creevey wavered between jealousy and hero-worship.

"Yes," Harry replied calmly. Ron, clearly not expecting an affirmative response, gaped like a fish out of water. Creevey blinked.

"Do you have a map?" Harry asked Ginny, ignoring her boyfriend and brother.

Ginny's eyebrows rose, and something close to panic flashed through her eyes. "A map?" she asked, going a bit pale. Harry stored those reactions away to ponder another day, and went for the kill.

"'Cause I'm lost in your eyes."

Ginny smiled in spite of herself, looking oddly relieved. "Lame, Harry, very, very lame."

Harry shrugged, eyes sparkling. "Maybe, but I made you smile."

"All right, that's enough!" Ron snapped, regaining what little composure he'd had in the first place. "Her boyfriend's right here, you know!"

"So very sorry," Harry deadpanned. "Does that mean I can flirt with her when her boyfriend's not around?"

Snorting, Ginny turned to the avidly watching Fat Lady and said, "Shapeshifting Shnargle."

"Yes indeed, dear," the Fat Lady said as she swung open.

"Wait a minute," Harry ordered, eyes narrowed as he recalled what Luna had said at the platform - that she'd always suspected he was either Harry Potter or a Shapeshifting Shnargle. "Who comes up with the passwords?"

"Dumbledore, of course," the freckled fifth year prefect replied, bemused.

"Shapeshifting Shnargle," Harry muttered under his breath, scowling. "Bloody omniscient old bastard."

Ginny and Colin disappeared through the entrance to the common room. Harry was about to follow them - and hopefully catch a good glimpse of Ginny's backside, not that he'd be able to see much through her robes - when he was brought up short by someone grabbing his right arm.

Frowning ominously - Harry did _not_ like people invading his personal space, not unless they were cute and female - he jerked out of Ron's grasp and whirled to glare at the taller boy, eyes blazing.

"You leave my sister alone, Potter," Weasley said threateningly, oblivious to Harry's anger. "Don't think you've got everyone fooled. You should be in Slytherin with the rest of the worms, you traitor."

"And you should be in St. Mungo's, with the rest of the brain-dead," Harry retorted as he absently wondered what on earth Ron meant by 'traitor'. "Don't _ever _touch me again, Weasley."

"Why would I want to? You're disgusting," Weasley snarled.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Don't hold back, now. Tell me how you really feel," he taunted the other sixth year. Weasley flushed, his jaw clenched tightly and his hands curled into white-knuckled fists. "Going to punch me, Weasley? Not very proper behavior for a prefect."

"Get away from me," Ron growled fiercely.

"Gladly," Harry said, and ducked through the portrait hole.

He entered the common room in a bad temper that only abated slightly when he saw Neville waiting for him. Ignoring everyone else - did they have to stare at him like that? - he strode over to where his chubby friend was sitting near the fire.

"How was your detention?" Neville asked, as quiet as always.

"Exhausting," Harry said with a heartfelt sigh. "I'll tell you more about it later, when there's not so many people eavesdropping." His voice rose on the last seven words, and the other Gryffindors flushed and looked away, resuming their earlier activities.

All except Ron Weasley, of course. Harry was beginning to think his newfound enemy needed serious anger management help.

"Stop bothering Neville, Potter," the redhead said heatedly.

Harry was about to really lay into the idiot when Neville spoke up. "He's not bothering me, Ron. He's been my friend for ages."

"He's _what!_"

Ron wasn't the only incredulous one. In fact, just about everyone present was staring at the plump sixth year in total disbelief.

"You heard what he said," Harry snapped. "Now go away and mind your own business."

"Harry, don't," Neville pleaded. Harry sighed and nodded, muttering a reluctant, "Fine."

"How about I show you our dormitory?" Neville asked, flushing at the stares he was still getting from his housemates.

"Sounds good to me," Harry agreed immediately. A little more privacy_ definitely_ wouldn't be unwelcome, he thought, glaring at his audience.

Both boys relaxed once they were out of the common room and into the sixth year boys' dorm. "Nice," Harry approved, looking around. He knew he'd miss the rooms he'd stayed in over the summer, but at least Leander would still be using them, and Harry would be able to visit whenever he wanted. "Very...garish, but in a good way."

Neville laughed. "All the red and gold _is_ a bit bright, isn't it?"

"Like I said, garish."

"You'll get used to it," Neville assured him with a smile.

"Right," Harry said doubtfully. "I assume that bed's mine?" He pointed to the bed in question, the only one without a trunk at the end.

"Yeah - you're between me and Dean. Seamus is by the door and Ron's near the window."

"Thank Merlin," Harry said. "I don't think I could stand to be near Weasley."

"He's not that bad," Neville insisted loyally. "It's just that he's protective of Ginny." He lowered his voice and glanced nervously at the closed door, as if he thought Voldemort and his horde of trusty Death Eaters were gathered in the hall, their ears pressed to the door to hear every word.

"We don't really talk about it much, but Ginny...well, back in her first year, someone slipped her an old diary. She told Ron, who had her turn it in to Dumbledore. Apparently," and now Harry could barely hear his obviously frightened friend, "the diary had been You-Know-Who's, and if she'd kept it, it might have ended up controlling her."

Harry blinked. "I never read about that in any of the papers."

"That's because not many people know," Neville explained, shivering. "The Weasleys and the school wanted it kept quiet, and none of us Gryffindors who'd heard about what happened ever blabbed. But anyway, ever since then Ron's been looking out for Ginny. And...well, you were almost in Slytherin, and you're Malfoy's friend, and that doesn't look good."

"What, so Weasley thinks I'm here to finish this diary's job?" Harry asked incredulously.

Neville flushed and shrugged. "Maybe. I think mostly he just doesn't think you're the sort of person he wants around his sister."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm beginning to doubt that she's worth the bother," he grumbled, before pulling a tiny box out of his pocket and drawing his wand. With a swish and a flick, the box began to grow until it was a medium-sized, battered old oak trunk.

"D'you carry that with you everywhere?" Neville asked curiously, more than ready to change the subject.

"My trunk? Yeah," Harry said with a fond smile. "It used to be Chance's - she's a friend of mine who went to Hogwarts about eight or nine years ago. She gave it to me when I was twelve."

"You have a lot of friends, don't you?" Neville observed a tad wistfully.

Harry sat on his bed and leaned against one of the posts, looking his friend over carefully. "I suppose," he agreed after a few moments' thought. "But not as many as you think. I mean, there's loads of people I'm _friendly_ with, but not nearly as many people that I'd call my friend."

"Oh." Neville looked lost and a bit afraid. "And I - I'm -"

"You're a friend." Harry tried not to grin at Neville's stuttering - he suspected that if he did, the other boy wouldn't believe him when he assured him they were indeed friends, not just friendly acquaintances.

Neville smiled.

"Which means," Harry continued, "that I am definitely going to get you back for that stunt you and the others pulled on the train."

Neville's smile froze, then vanished like ice tossed into a fire. Harry thankfully managed to suppress the sudden and inexplicable urge to cackle.

"And now I'm going to bed," he said, smirking. "I'd watch your step tomorrow."

Neville squeaked in terror. Sliding under his horridly crimson covers, Harry grinned to himself. People were so predictable.

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**Review Responses:**

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**Bella Snape - **Hmm. According to the online test I took, I'm a Hufflepuff. And darn proud of it! Grins.

**Kalorna Enera - **I like Dumbledore. I do think he is at times intentionally manipulative, but I also believe he's got Harry's best interests at heart, and that he honestly cares for people. Evil!Dumbledore generally strikes me as ridiculous. And no, I have no plans for Umbridge's death. But you never know...maybe I'll change my mind. Frankly, I'm a bit frightened by the number of bloodthirsty requests for her death.

**tweeny-weeny - **There aren't any Hufflepuffs in his group of friends...yet! And there may never be. I'm not sure how much his personal relationships will really affect the story, and at the moment I think four friends are quite enough for both him and me to keep track of.

**Tim Digidestined of Loyalty - **Most of those questions will probably be answered later on in the story, but I'll answer a couple of them in the FAQs on my Livejournal, just in case I never do get around to explaining everything.

**Eaiva le Fay - **I actually used the 'wands and holsters' thingy in another fanfic I started writing - a time travel story where Harry gets sent back to 1940s Hogwarts. So cliched, but so very very fun. And I'm glad you think I've done Luna well - I find she's the most difficult character for me to write, though I have trouble with Neville as well. And though Ron is one of my favorite characters, I have a hard time getting Invictus!Ron to be aggressive but not a complete ass.

**zorro x - **Invictus isn't really relationship-oriented or driven by luuurve. Even when Harry does get together with The Girl, I'll keep it pretty low-key.

**SensiblyTainted - **I was just teasing you; no need to feel bad or anything. I got what you meant. Grins all around, eh?

**x-Faux-x -** Personally, I can't read badass!Harry stories. I really, really hate it when he starts acting like he's king of the world or smarter than everyone else or whatever, especially as Dumbledore's usually pretty badly portrayed in those stories. Why I wrote my own badass!Harry story, then, is a mystery.

**hmm - **There's a difference between being stupidly rebellious and being independent.

**The Slice - **In real life, I'm Neville's female counterpart. Sad, but true. Does that mean I'm no longer worthy of worship?

**gatogirl1 - **I had a long talk (through email) with a reviewer who expressed concern about me making Harry totally whipped by whomever he pairs up with. And it's true, sadly, that in many fanfics, Harry turns into a complete wuss the moment he finds Twu Wuv (cue violins). I assure you, that is not my intention, and if Invictus even hints at becoming such a story, you have my full permission to bitch-slap me until I stop.

**Nimbirosa - **"I am -not- weird. I am -not- strange. I'm just me." -- Erm...they aren't mutually exclusive, you know.

**japanese-jew - **I had Harry poke people? That's...odd. My mind frightens me.

**Wren Truesong - **Hmm...yes, I suppose a lengthy enough review will get me to forgive most things. Especially as you've managed to gain pity points for your laryngitis (shudder).

**Ezmerelda - **I'm famous! Woo-hoo!

Thanks also to: **Munching Munchkin Managem, fudgebaby, Elfprincess, Broken Outcast, RavenEcho, oeil-de-nuit, Fenhir, Virginia Riddle-Malfoy, B Madden, cold-blooded-angel, SaphirePhoenix, JC, antares520, Celestial Celestia, BovinePimp, Lily Flower 1000, Spiorad, Aznog, missy witch, miz, peoples, dreams of innocence, Letishia, steffles24, darkanglefrmhell, The Wyrd Sister, SaintEmo, UnSerious Sirius, Silly Penguin, jrd238, murdrax, insanechildfanfic, Shadow00, yo-yo55d, nightcrawler1089, potterholic13, Destiny's Dragon, cp, Dirbatua, Lady-Snape7, kobe23, MysterioX, madeleine, Crystal, Aki no Yume1, Vash2004, Angry Butterfly, Monaki-cheung, Cymyrrah, NoAlias, Viskii, Isafold, Stoofie, Team Graecisso, D3, yaukira, Ravens-Jade, potterfanforever, icedragon925, Rachel Sedai, HazelWolf111, depth, CrystalBlue, Nightfallshadow, the musician, shazia)Riavera, ficfan, black blade, twighlightshadow, GaLlOpInGaRgOyLeS, albert87, missfictionlover, Tondo-the-half-elf, Pretty Padfoot, Nooka, YumiAngel, bob: the blind lobster, Eve27, pears, Weirkat, acr, Shadowed Rains, brokentoy19, Lady11Occult, A-man, Night-Owl123, Firehedgehog, Skuld's Sentaro4, Kaaera, HeWhoComesWithTheDawn, elvengoddess696, T.I.Phoenix, A. Austein, Crissy Potter, StaringStars, Kara, RebelHanyouofDarkness, Acerbus Sidus, HecateDeMorte, Dakana Warrior, bandgsecurtiyaw, Quillian, Talons, Larna Mandrea, dress-without-sleeves, ZZ9PluralZAlpha, SeekerTLK, smurf, Sierra-Falls, ShAdOwAdRiA, Lil Ole Me 97, samuraiduck27, E.A.V., ak-alterego, Raythe, hbt3, Scary-Girly, Lizbeth, Teen Prodigy of Ravenclaw, VaterVonMelkor, morgan le fay, and Talkin' of normality.**


	12. Chapter Eleven: Gratuitous Angst Ahoy!

Disclaimer: Not mine.

**Okay, so for the fourth time someone has mentioned a certain similarity between my fic and one called 'Shake Me'. After the second time someone mentioned the similarities, I checked it out and saw that Shake Me was published _after _I started posting Invictus. Frankly, I don't care if the author is using my ideas. I'll take it as a compliment. If she/he is taking direct quotes from my story, then I'd like to be credited, but whatever. I just want people to know that I am _not _a plagiarist, and that clichéd as the premise of my fic may be, my ideas and writing are my own.**

Hee. You people are gonna be so angry when you read what his animagus form is. I mean, there's no build-up at all. I can just imagine you all going, "All this suspense, that much waiting, for _this!_ Die, opalish, die!"

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**Chapter Eleven: Gratuitous Angst Ahoy!**

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_Thou call'dst me a dog before thou hadst a cause, but, since I am a dog, beware my fangs. _

_-William Shakespeare_

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Harry's first week of classes went fairly well, all things considered. Most of his teachers seemed to like him, and none of the coursework was overly challenging. He even got revenge on his friends by turning their hair pink for a day - which was, frankly, rather lame, but Harry wasn't much of a prankster.

Luna decided she quite liked it that way, and continued spelling it the same color for four more days.

Sirius and Remus came to Hogwarts on the Saturday after the first week of classes, ostensibly to give Dumbledore some information for the Order, but mostly to inform Harry of the Animagus name they'd chosen for him. Harry still didn't see why they'd had to take so much time to figure one out, but Sirius insisted that the choosing of a Marauder name was weighty business and that careful deliberation was necessary, while Remus claimed it was tradition to spend a couple of weeks pondering a new nickname.

The two aging pranksters wasted no time in informing him of that nickname once they'd arrived.

"Wily," Remus said with a small grin as he and Sirius led Harry towards the Entrance Hall.

"Wily?" Harry repeated dubiously. "Is there a reason for that?"

Remus nodded, smiling. Harry was tempted to mutter, "My, my, what big teeth you have."

"In a muggle cartoon - I told you I'm a half-blood, yes?" Remus asked. Harry nodded, trying not to picture himself as Red Riding Hood. "There's a muggle cartoon about a roadrunner and a coyote. The coyote's name is Wile E. Coyote."

Harry was indeed a coyote - lean and a bit on the small side, with mostly ash-gray fur tinted red at his ears and tail. Remus and Sirius had been delighted when he'd first transformed for them, the same day that they left Hogwarts over the summer. "Another canine in the family," Sirius had said with a broad grin that, for a moment, made him look like the young, handsome man he'd been before Azkaban.

"Besides," Sirius added while Harry chuckled at the story behind his new nickname, "you _are_ pretty wily. Got it from Lily, I expect - James was a bit thick as a teenager." Sirius sounded wistful and slightly angry, as he always did when speaking of Harry's parents.

Remus snorted inelegantly. "Sirius, we were all idiots as teenagers. Even Lily had her moments."

"Don't listen to him, Harry," Sirius commanded. "I'll have you know I have never been less than perfect. Remus and James were the idiots, not me." He didn't mention Pettigrew - but then, neither of the remaining Marauders ever did.

Harry listened attentively as they bickered - he always loved hearing about his parents, even if he pretended he didn't care.

"So, Harry," Sirius asked, making him start, "do you need help with any of your schoolwork?"

"Not really," Harry replied easily. "Classes just started up, after all, and most of them are going pretty well."

"Most of them?" Remus repeated, eyebrows raised.

"Defense is a bloody nightmare," Harry groaned. "Umbridge definitely has it in for me. I swear to God, if she insults me one more time, I'm going to lose it. And my extra training - Advanced Transfigurations, at the moment - well, it's driving me nutters."

"Well, I know just the thing to help you cheer up," Sirius with a rakish grin. "Hogsmeade."

Harry frowned. "Don't I have to wait for the first Hogsmeade weekend? That isn't for another three weeks."

Sirius smiled conspiratorially. "Moony and I know a secret way out of the school."

"And we have the Headmaster's permission," Remus added dryly.

"Well, that just sucked all the fun out of things," Harry commented. "Can we at least leave using the secret way?"

"Never let anyone tell you that you aren't a Marauder at heart," Remus said with a smile. "And no, we won't be using the secret passage. I'm too old to go crawling around through tunnels and cellars."

"Spoilsport," Sirius accused. "I'm not complaining, and I'm just as old as you."

"_You_ can turn into Padfoot," Remus retorted.

"And you can turn into Moony."

"Only when there's a full moon!"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

Remus, for once, actually looked as if he was close to losing his normally perfect composure.

"Do you two ever stop arguing?" Harry asked curiously.

"No," they replied together, shooting each other irritated glares.

"Thought not," Harry said with a smile. "Now let's go - anything that gets me away from the Umbitch is welcome, even if it isn't against the rules."

"You know everything I said about you being your own person? I was wrong," Remus sighed, shaking his head. "You're _exactly_ like your father."

Harry laughed.

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_Anathema ... disapproved of liquor in general but approved of it in her specific case. _

_-Terry Pratchett, Neil Gaiman_

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Hogsmeade was neat. There was really no other world Harry could think of to describe the small wizarding village.

They passed the Shrieking Shack, and the two Marauders explained its true history to him. On the one hand, it was kind of disappointing to hear it wasn't really haunted; on the other, he enjoyed knowing that something of the Marauders - all four Marauders - remained, even if it was the ramshackle, broken-down abandoned house where they'd transformed to their animal forms each full moon.

Their next stop was a tiny structure that turned out to be the Hogsmeade Gringotts outpost. Harry, who had only a few sickles on him, withdrew a good twenty galleons and stuffed them in his pockets.

Honeydukes was probably as close to heaven as Harry would ever come. He picked up a few blood-flavored lollipops for Leander, as well as Chocolate Frogs for his other friends. In the end, Remus and Sirius had to literally drag him away from the sweet shop. Harry protested loudly all the while, struggling to get back to all the lovely candy.

Next stop was Zonko's, which was almost as good as Honeydukes. Ignoring the stares they were getting - "Sirius Black, Mary, that's _Sirius Black!_" - they stocked up on various prank items. Harry didn't buy much - he wasn't exactly known for being a prankster - but Sirius and Remus left a good few galleons poorer.

Remus tried to convince Harry to go to Gladrag's, but Harry insisted that he liked the clothes he currently had, thank you very much.

"You look like a ragamuffin," Remus protested.

"Did you just say ragamuffin?" Harry asked incredulously, before shooting a death glare at a nearby man who had seen his scar and gasped, "Harry Potter! My word, it's Harry Potter!"

The three of them ducked into the Hog's Head at about three in the afternoon. Remus had wanted to go to The Three Broomsticks, but Sirius said he was sick of being gaped at and wanted to go somewhere where no one would care who he was. Harry, who was being recognized as the Boy Who Lived more and more frequently as the day wore on, agreed.

The Hog's Head looked dirty and run-down, and the overhanging sign was rotted and swung on creaking hinges. Inside, the Head was shrouded with shadows, the corners full of cobwebs. Oddly enough, the place smelled of goats.

The bartender looked strangely familiar to Harry - there was something about the long, crooked nose and straggly beard that tugged at his memory. Sirius and Remus both eyed the barman curiously as they led Harry to a table in the corner, as if they too vaguely recognized the grizzled man but couldn't quite recall where they'd seen him before.

There weren't many other people present so early in the day, just a couple of burly, sour-faced men drinking firewhiskey at the bar.

"I'll go get us drinks," Sirius offered. "What do you want?"

"Gillywater," Remus answered promptly. "I'd prefer tea, but I don't think they serve it here."

"Firewhiskey," Harry said.

"Not a chance," Remus and Sirius chorused.

"It's not like anyone will care," Harry whined. "I could be twelve and they'd probably give me whatever I asked for."

"That's not the issue," Remus said sternly. "Sirius is your godfather, and I'm as good as, and we aren't about to get you drunk."

"Not till you're of age, at least," Sirius qualified, earning himself a glare from the werewolf.

"Better make it a butterbeer, then," Harry sighed. Sirius patted him sympathetically on the shoulder.

Remus chuckled. "I take back what I said earlier, Harry. You're more like your mother than your father."

"What d'you mean?" Harry asked as Sirius strode to the front of the room, where the bartender was swiping half-heartedly at a glass with a less than pristine towel.

"Your mother," Remus said with a grin, "had a great fondness for firewhiskey, even when she was younger than you are now. James could never stand the stuff - he stuck with butterbeer and the occasional sip of rum - but Lily..."

"My mother was an alcoholic?" Harry demanded, amused and horrified at the same time.

Remus laughed out loud, earning himself glares from the two scowling men at the bar. "Hardly. She knew when to stop, and only indulged every once in a while. She completely swore off alcohol of all types when she found out she was pregnant with you, and didn't go back to drinking even after you were born."

"Talking about Lily?" Sirius asked as he sauntered up to the table, holding a bottle of butterbeer and a bottle of firewhiskey in one hand, a glass of gillywater in the other. "She always said she'd had a little too much to drink when she finally agreed to date your father." He set the drinks down and slid into the seat next to Harry, across from Remus.

"You're ruining my image of Mum being a perfect angel, you know," Harry said tartly.

"You'll survive," Sirius replied, ruffling his hair. Harry batted his godfather's hand away, then snatched the firewhiskey from in front of the older man and drank a few sips before Sirius managed to reclaim it.

"Little sneak," the black-haired man said with a proud smile. Remus groaned in exasperation and muttered something irritably under his breath.

"So spill," Harry ordered after a few more minutes of playful teasing. Remus and Sirius looked at him blankly.

"You didn't bring me out here just for the hell of it," Harry said dryly. "Dumbledore wouldn't have let me out of the school without a very good reason."

Remus winced and Sirius scowled. "We needed a place to talk where we wouldn't be overheard," Remus explained.

"Talk about what?"

"Voldemort," Sirius said succinctly after placing a powerful Silencing Shield around the table.

"What about him?" Harry asked.

"He wants to recruit you."

Harry gaped at the two men incredulously. "You've got to be kidding me."

"'Fraid not," his godfather said with an angry frown. "Certain sources have informed us that Voldemort, after hearing about your, ah, unusual Sorting, decided you could be corrupted."

Certain sources. Order-speak for Snape, Harry suspected.

"So what's going to happen?"

Remus and Sirius carefully avoided looking at him as the werewolf answered. "There's two ways this can go, Harry. Either you can let him know in no uncertain terms that you will never follow him, or..."

"Or you can string him along," Sirius said sourly. "You can make him think you're on his side, and get information for the Order. And that's the real reason you're being taught Occlumency."

Harry felt like he'd been punched in the gut. "Dumbledore wants me to spy?" he demanded.

"It's up to you," Remus hastened to assure him.

"Right," Harry said furiously, "right. So I can get that bastard's mark-"

"Actually," Remus interrupted, "Voldemort doesn't mark anyone who goes to Hogwarts. It's too likely they'll be caught."

"Shut _up_, Moony," Sirius growled. "He shouldn't have to do this, and you shouldn't be pressuring him."

"I'm not," Remus said mildly. "Frankly, I'll sleep easier if Harry refuses, but it's his choice, and he should know all the facts before he decides on one course of action."

"Both of you, stop arguing for once," Harry snapped. "Now, how does Voldemort plan on approaching me?"

Sirius slumped in his seat, defeated. "We don't know. He could try to contact you mind-to-mind, or he could send someone to you with an offer."

"Mind-to-mind?" Harry repeated, stumped.

"Your scar," Remus said, his voice and eyes gentle. "Headmaster Dumbledore believes your scar links you to Voldemort, and that either one of you could manipulate that link. That's another reason he wants you to learn Occlumency and Legilimency."

"But you don't know for certain," Harry said, swallowing. "You don't know for certain that it links us like that."

"Has it ever hurt?" Remus asked softly. "Burned for no reason? Have you ever felt flashes of emotion that weren't yours?"

Harry's heart sank. "Yeah. Not often...but it's happened now and then. I figured it was natural for a curse scar."

Sirius swore, clearly displeased that his godson had any sort of link to the Dark Lord. Harry wasn't exactly ecstatic about it either.

"Jesus," he sighed, closing his eyes and leaning back in his seat. "When it rains, it bloody _pours_." Sirius snorted. "How long do I have before Voldemort tries to contact me? Will I be able to learn Occlumency in that time?"

Sirius' lips thinned till he looked as stern as an angry McGonagall. "Our source said that Voldemort isn't planning on approaching you for another month or two. He wants to learn more about you first - no doubt he'll be having his Death Eaters' children spying on you, so be careful how you act."

Eyes still closed, Harry pondered his choices. If he refused to spy, he wouldn't have to worry about Death Eater meetings or fooling Voldemort. God, how he wanted to refuse. Only one thing stopped him, made him consider agreeing.

If he refused, Voldemort would probably go all out in an attempt to kill him. If he agreed to become a Death Eater - if he managed to pull off the charade - he'd actually be safer from Voldemort. And he might learn something that could ultimately help him defeat the Dark Lord.

He'd have to do his best acting, though, to convince Voldemort he was sincere. He couldn't be too eager or he'd automatically be suspect. This would take careful planning.

And who would he be able to tell? If he did agree to spy...well, he hated to keep something like that from Draco or Leander. But survival came first, and he'd be endangering himself - and his friends - by telling them what he was up to.

"Harry?" Remus quietly interrupted Harry's thoughts. Harry opened his eyes and stared hard at his godfather and Lupin.

"I think we'd best get back to Hogwarts," he said calmly. He could tell they were unnerved by his sudden lack of emotion, but couldn't bring himself to care. Frankly, he was too preoccupied with his own problems - and there were so many, so varied... For a moment, Harry wanted nothing more than to climb into his gaudy Gryffindor bed and hide under the covers for, oh, a year or two.

"All right," Sirius said, concerned. "Let's go, then."

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_Believe me, every heart has its secret sorrow which the world knows not, and oftentimes we call a man cold, when he is only sad. _

_-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_

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Over the last several weeks, Albus had grown accustomed to a relatively good-natured Harry Potter, so much that he'd almost forgotten the glimpses he'd gotten at the Ministry of a cold, hard-hearted, bitter young man.

Now that young man was back with a vengeance.

"I'll do it," Harry said the moment he entered Albus' office. Albus had known the boy was coming - he did have monitoring charms on the staircase and the hall outside his office - but hadn't been prepared for icy expression on the boy's face.

"What!" Sirius yelped. Remus paled.

"I said," Harry said coolly, "that I'll do it. I'll spy for you, on one condition."

Albus was torn between relief and dread - objectively, he was glad that Harry had agreed, but personally, he wished the boy had refused. "What condition?"

"I want to attend Order meetings."

Albus considered the wording of Harry's request - or command, rather. Harry wasn't the type to speak carelessly.

"You wish to attend meetings," Albus repeated. "I notice that you did not say you wish to become a member of the Order."

Harry smiled thinly, sharp as a blade and just as deadly. "Very good, Headmaster. Not many would have caught that."

"Wait a moment," Sirius said, frowning. "If you're going to attend Order meetings anyway, why don't you want to join?"

"My loyalties lie primarily with myself," the young man said, implacable. "Not with the Order, not with the Ministry, and sure as hell not with Voldemort. But I do deserve to know exactly what is happening in the war, especially considering my unique role in certain upcoming events."

Ah yes, the prophecy. And now the spying duties, as well...

"Very well," Albus agreed reluctantly. "But I must insist that you gain some level of competency in Occlumency before you are allowed to attend."

Harry nodded slowly. "Then I should start lessons immediately. I'm told they'll be with Professor Snape?"

"Yes. I'll let him know he should expect you in his office after dinner."

"Good." And then Harry, with a short nod to Sirius and Remus, turned on his heel and left Albus' office.

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_It's not true that life is one damn thing after another; it is one damn thing over and over. _

_-Edna St. Vincent Millay_

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Harry didn't go back to Gryffindor Tower. His mood was too black for him to willingly put up with the incessant cheer and good humor of his housemates, and he didn't want to end up offending someone he actually liked.

Instead, he escaped onto the castle grounds and headed straight for Hagrid's hut, hoping the half-giant would lend him a shot or two of whiskey. Harry didn't much feel like staying sober.

Unfortunately - or fortunately, depending on your point of view - Hagrid's door was barred and no one answered Harry's calls. Frustrated and angry, Harry was about to head back to the castle when something at the edge of the Forbidden Forest caught his eye. Squinting, he made out a large four-legged form - a centaur?

He shifted quickly into his coyote form and slunk to the outskirts of the woods, creeping up on the centaur, who he now recognized as Ronan. He was about to transform back when Ronan wheeled around and stared directly at him.

"Harry Potter," Ronan greeted the coyote solemnly. "You should not be alone in the forest, not even during the day."

Retaking his human body, Harry shook himself and then turned an irritated glare on the red-headed centaur. "How'd you know it was me?" he demanded.

Ronan merely smiled - an odd expression on his normally dour face. "I have been waiting for you," he said calmly. "The council wishes me to warn you."

"To warn me?" Harry repeated, brow furrowed. "Warn me about what?"

"Be careful, Harry Potter, in the lies you tell and the webs you weave," Ronan murmured, gaze piercing. "The one you seek to fool sees more than you know."

"Wait," Harry cried as Ronan started to turn away. "Are you saying that Voldemort knows my plans? How is that possible?"

Ronan paused, eying him thoughtfully. "He does not know, yet, what lies in your heart. But he will know soon if you do not take care. Mars overtakes Venus in the sky, and the trickster may yet be caught in his own trap."

And with that, the centaur was gone, melting back into the forest.

"Oh, for crying out loud," Harry snarled, glowering. "Can't they ever give you a straight answer?"

"Of course not, Harry. They're bloody centaurs, after all."

Blinking, Harry looked up to see a somewhat familiar face grinning at him from the middle branches of a tall oak tree. "Thom?" he asked, after searching his memory for the name that matched the face.

"Got it in one," the unusually round-faced vampire said with a smirk, almost lounging in his tree. "I'm surprised you even remember me, really. We only met a few times, and that was several years ago."

"You gave me one of my daggers," Harry said with a shrug, still staring up at Thom. "My favorite one, in fact. I'm not about to forget that. Now, is there a reason you were eavesdropping on my conversation?" He wondered absently why on earth the vampire was in a tree in the first place.

"Conversation?" Thom scoffed. "I didn't hear much conversing going on. More like the centaur going on like a crazy seer while you tried to make sense of his babblings."

"True enough, I suppose," Harry admitted.

"You should get back to your school," Thom said seriously. "It'll be sunset soon, and for all that you're a competent fighter, there are dangers in the Forest that you shouldn't have to face quite yet."

"I thought all the creatures agreed to help guard me?"

"So they did," Thom agreed. "But many of the Forbidden Forest creatures are fickle and place no store in promises."

"Comforting," Harry drawled sarcastically. Thom snorted.

"You get on back to Hogwarts, lad," the vampire ordered. "And come visit me some other time, when it's not so near to nightfall. It gets a bit boring, with only Leander for company."

"I'll be sure to let him know you said so," Harry said wryly, before heading off towards the castle. Thom snickered from his branch.

Harry strolled back to Hogwarts, lost in thought, as the sky darkened.

He was going to be a spy. A bloody _spy_. It was ridiculous, and not nearly as exciting as he'd have imagined. All he felt was this sick sort of anticipation, wondering exactly how much danger he'd be in, wondering if anything he did as a spy would made a difference in the outcome of the war.

And what would he tell his friends? He had no real problem with lying to most people, what about those he really cared about?

He wanted to tell them badly - Draco, Leander, and Chance. Maybe Neville or Luna or Theodore, as well. But he couldn't risk it - not when Voldemort could use them to discover Harry's true loyalties.

"Damn it all," he sighed, shoulders hunching as he slipped into the Entrance Hall. There weren't many students about - they were probably all at dinner, reveling in their weekend freedom.

He spent the next hour or so simply walking, going wherever his feet decided to take him. Harry wasn't overly surprised when he ended up outside Snape's office. Hoping the man was back from dinner already, he knocked on the closed door.

"Come in," Snape snapped, his voice sharp despite being muffled by the door.

Harry opened the door and stepped through, suddenly feeling oddly nervous. From what he understood of Occlumency and Legilimency, from what McGonagall and Sirius had told him, Snape would be looking through his mind. Snape would see things Harry wanted kept secret - he'd see things Harry never wanted anyone to know.

That was bad enough, that anyone would be rummaging through his thoughts. But someone like Snape? Someone who showed, at best, a contemptuous tolerance towards Harry, and at worst, strained dislike. Would Snape use what he learned against him? Could the greasy-haired man even be trusted?

"Potter," the Professor greeted him with a sneer. He was seated behind his desk, his wand next to a quill, his papers all kept neatly in order. "Close the door."

Harry obeyed silently, then pulled out his wand and cast a silencing charm and a locking charm as well. Snape nodded in unspoken approval.

"The Headmaster has informed me that you are to learn Occlumency as quickly as possible. All of your other extra classes will be discontinued until further notice; you are to use the time-turner if there are any conflicts. You will report to my office every night after dinner; lessons will begin immediately and end when you can no longer remain upright without assistance."

Harry's lips twitched. "Never let anyone call you a liar," he murmured, amused.

Snape's eyes narrowed. "This is not to be taken lightly, Potter," he snarled, standing. Harry almost took a step back, realizing for the first time how bloody imposing the Potions Master was. "You need to learn to shield your mind; lives depend upon it."

"So start teaching me," Harry shot back, standing his ground.

The other man's thin lips twisted. "Clear your mind."

Harry stared blankly. "What?"

"Clear your mind, Potter!" Snape growled, clearly displeased to be repeating himself.

"How?" Harry demanded, refusing to be intimidated.

One of Snape's hands twitched towards his wand, which was still lying on his desk. Then he let out a breath that whistled through his crooked teeth and ground out, "This is not difficult, boy. Just do as I say."

"Look," Harry said, eyes flashing, "I'd love to 'clear my mind', but I don't know what the bloody hell you're on about! How am I supposed to stop thinking?"

Snape closed his eyes, and Harry shifted uncomfortably, wondering if the older man was pondering ways to curse him. Then the eyes opened and focused on him once more.

"The intent is not to suppress your thinking processes," Snape said, his voice taking on an almost lecturing quality. "Instead, try to let go of all emotion. Anything that distracts you from your goal must be ignored."

"So it's more like focusing your mind," Harry offered. Snape looked briefly surprised, but nodded.

"Very good, Potter. Five points to Slytherin."

Harry almost smiled, then realized what Snape had said. "Er...I'm in Gryffindor," he pointed out hesitantly, wondering if his teacher had lost it.

Snape smirked. "But the Sorting Hat wanted you in my house, yes?"

All of a sudden, Harry understood. "Let me guess," he sighed. "Every time I do something right, you'll give points to Slytherin. Every time I do something wrong, you'll take points from Gryffindor."

"Clever boy."

"Has anyone ever told you you're a complete bastard? Sir," he added after a moment's thought.

Snape's lips twitched. "Five points from Gryffindor for your blatant disrespect. Now, clear - or rather, focus - your mind."

Harry tried, he really did. But he wasn't very good at not feeling.

"Legilimens!" Snape cried, wand in hand. Harry's vision wavered.

_He was seven, stuck in a filthy, narrow alley, backing away from a middle-aged man with wild eyes and breath that stank of alcohol. "Don't," he said, "Please don't hurt me." But the man lunged, made contact - and was jerked back by a hand on his shoulder._

_"A child molester? How quaint," a silky smooth voice murmured, and Harry watched in astonishment as teeth elongated and sank into the drunken man's throat._

_"Who are you?" Harry quavered a few moments later, when the drunkard was nothing more than a bloodless corpse._

_"My name's Leander. And you are?"_

Harry gasped as Snape withdrew. "Pathetic," the Slytherin scathed. "Again. Legilimens!"

_He was in a cupboard - no, _the_ cupboard. Hungry, so hungry, and it was so cold..._

_He was on the streets, ten years old this time, slinking away from a vegetable stand, a stolen tomato clutched in one hand._

_Italy, near the ruins - an odd-looking blond girl and her father dancing around the rubble..._

"Are you even trying?"

Harry's knees felt strangely weak and his heart beat in his throat. He tried desperately to focus his mind, to rid himself of feeling-

"Legilimens!"

_Someone kicked at him, knocking him into a trash can. "Street filth."_

_He begged for a coin, for a bite of food; everyone ignored him, passing him by._

_Blood, so much blood, all over his hands. "I didn't mean to," he whimpered, "I swear I didn't!"_

He was on his knees, now, his arms wrapped around his middle. Dimly, he saw his wand on the ground, next to his leg. He started to reach for it.

_In the cupboard again, bruised from a round of Harry Hunting. He sniffled, shuffling away from the spiders when they got too close._

He heard himself shout something, his wand solid and reassuring against his palm and fingers.

"Better."

Blinking, Harry slowly looked up. Snape stood before him, arms crossed over his chest, wand dangling lazily from one hand. Whatever spell Harry had used clearly hadn't hit its target.

"How is it better?" Harry asked bitterly. "I couldn't do a damned thing to keep you out."

"But you were able to reach your wand and attempt to disarm me even as I attacked your mind," Snape calmly replied. "You were able to focus on something other than your memories."

Still less than satisfied with his performance, Harry merely pursed his lips and struggled to his feet. He swayed once he was upright, but remained standing.

"That's enough for tonight," Snape said, his upper lip curling as he looked Harry over.

"What happened to 'remaining upright without assistance'?" Harry asked, attempting a smile.

Snape's face could have been carved from ice, for all the emotion it showed. "I do not intend to escort you back to your dormitory, Potter, and you'd look most odd crawling to Gryffindor Tower. Return tomorrow, and try not to be seen. And clear your mind before you sleep."

Harry nodded wearily and stumbled towards the door. He paused before leaving, though, and glanced over his shoulder at Snape, who was still watching.

"Thanks," he said quietly. "For agreeing to teach me."

"Leave."

Sighing, Harry did as he was told.

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_Like its politicians and its wars, society has the teenagers it deserves. _

_-J. B. Priestley_

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Surprisingly enough, returning to Gryffindor Tower felt something like going home. It was disconcerting, but Harry didn't have enough energy to fret about it for long. Neither did he have enough energy to wonder whether Sirius and Remus were still around, or if Snape was actually angry about being thanked or was just being a prick.

"Where've you been?" Neville demanded the moment Harry staggered into the common room, ready to drop down and never get up. "I've been worried sick!" Harry felt a moment of guilt for having to deceive his friend - but Neville, like the others, couldn't know about Harry's new task. It was just too risky.

"Sorry, Mother," Harry retorted, before yawning. He winced as his jaw cracked.

"Attractive, Harry, really," someone said from near the fireplace. Harry glanced over to see one Ginevra Weasley smirking at him. Creevey was next to her on the sofa, an arm around her shoulders.

"Is it hot in here, or is it just you?" Harry wondered, pasting on his best 'I'm a sexy bastard' smile.

"It's just me, of course," Ginny replied, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she grinned. She did look good, wearing worn blue jeans and a white halter top.

"Silly me, having to ask," Harry said, before yawning again.

"Oh, go to bed," Ginny sighed, snuggling into her scowling boyfriend's side. Creevey shot Harry a smug smile.

"Will you come with me?" Harry asked, smiling at Ginny and ignoring her boyfriend entirely.

"Give it up, Harry," Neville advised, holding back a laugh. "You're making yourself look bad."

"But in a good way," Harry countered.

"Trust me, Harry," Ginny drawled, "it's impossible to look bad in a good way."

Harry smirked, eyes hooded. "Trust _me_, Ginevra," he purred, "it's _very_ possible." Creevey bristled.

"Moron," Ron Weasley growled from across the room.

"Bed," Neville ordered before Harry could get into another pissing contest with the lanky redhead. "Now. You look dead on your feet."

"That's 'cause I'm a zombie," Harry said, his words punctuated by another jaw-cracking yawn. "Didn't you know?"

"Bed," Neville repeated, smiling.

Harry sighed. "Yes, Mummy." And then he sprinted across the room and up the dormitory stairs before Neville could hit him.

All in all, it was a somewhat positive end to a dreadful day.

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Review Responses! (And thanks to those who wished me a happy birthday!)

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**GaLlOpInGaRgOyLeS - **No worries about Ron. He's just very protective of Ginny in this story; he'll get over his grudge eventually. And I have Umbridge's fate all planned out; hopefully, it will satisfy all you bloodthirsty homicidal Toad-haters.

**mysterywalker - **Yes! More Beta-appreciation! I'm thinking there should be a Beta Appreciation Week. And my day (after I had a minor breakdown over my homework, blech) was exceedingly spiffy.

**fhippogriff - **I love both Snape and McGonagall, even if Snape's an ass and McGonagall's uptight. Harry insults people that often? Heh. I haven't really been keeping track of that. Considering I have no talent at all for insulting people, this is somewhat surprising.

**Insanitysplea - **I think that if Ron hadn't been friends with Harry, he'd have had more time for his sister, so she would have been more comfortable with confessing to him what was going on. I also think that it was in part due to Ginny's crush on Harry that she let things get so far with Tom and the diary.

**Nimbirosa -** This is your favorite? I'd say the chapter I just finished writing (13) is my favorite.

**dress-without-sleeves - **Ron's one of my favorite characters. In fact, I wrote a Ron-centered ficlet meant mostly to glorify him as a response to all the Ron!hate on the web. So no, he won't remain so aggressive. As for Nim...well, she's a scary woman, and I'm not about to do anything to piss her off. And thanks for your offer to assault me if I should turn Harry into a spineless worm.

**The Slice - **Want to be my High Priest(ess)?

**gatogirl1 - **Flitwick is, according to JKR, Head of Ravenclaw. As for Blaise...well, we only found out recently he is a boy, and the name 'Blaise' can be used for both genders. Glad you like everything with Ginny and Ron!

**Stahchild - **I'm planning on Invictus being the first in a trilogy - Invictus itself is Harry's sixth year, the next story will be of his summer, and the last will be his seventh year. The summer installment will be almost entirely about his relationship with the various professors, especially Dumbledore.

**Red Death - **Thanks for the warning! I've taken out the FAQs from all chapters, but I think I'll probably leave Review Responses in. I checked the TOS, and they don't seem to have a problem with that. No lyrics - hopefully poems and quotes don't count, as I'm fairly certain ff . net banned lyrics due to fear of the music industry's recent rampage.

Thanks also to: **bandgsecurtiyaw, Broken Outcast, athenakitty, Dens Serpentis, jbcna, fudgebaby, Lady11Occult, Wren Truesong, nonjon, LadyShilver, Lunawolf, Nooka, Rachel Sedai, theMeH, foolishbeloved, twistingyourfears, SunflowerLynx, UnSerious Sirius, ISC, neferseba, princess ella, koryan'shea, Keaira Black, ZergMaster, SaphirePhoenix, Khadon, tweenyweeny, Talkin' of normality, Zevrillion, Thoroughly Blue, HeWhoComesWithTheDawn, Monaki-cheung, ROSSIGNOL, ShAdOwAdRiA, MysterioX, potterfanforever, Quillian, kobe23, Tim Digidestined of Loyalty, potterholic13, CannonFodder, Kaaera, Night-Owl123, ang, LiLy MaLfOy13, E.A.V., Marikili68, Dead Feather, m-girls, Treck, Shadow00, Shadowed Rains, RebelHanyouofDarkness, HecateDeMort, pears, Scary-Girly, IamSiriusgrl, Larna Mandrea, Shinigami, Voakands, ZZ9PluralZAlpha, A-man, Ezmerelda, Jensindenial3516, B Madden, Firehedgehog, peoples, Hazel Maraa, magicalbrat, LyonsRoar, methoslover, baileygirl42, stargirl, Cado, albert87, antares520, The Lady Reaper of the Shadows, Silly Penguin, Pretty Padfoot, yaukira, Julie Long, Eternal Cosmos, steffles24, neely61, Letishia, SensiblyTainted, Schwinpt, DarkMagicPracticer, Shadowface, Windy River, Kalorna Enera, rlmess, NoAlias, samuraiduck27, fan, Lachwen, Silver Miko-Youkai, sempracaveas03, -shiftyness-, Skuld's Sentaro4, just some random maniac, asntgr01, The Tiny Tine Hermit, LGM, risi, CheddarTrek, Dadaiiro, HPfreakout, Deidre Sage, DaughterOfTheNight, CommaSplice, YamiPaladinofChaos, Flamegirl22, freekofnature, Lynn-50670, Fasor, r h 4 ever, LadyKnight011890, geessssdf, C.F.Evangel, AngelicVampiress, Curtis Zidane Ziraa, SeventhSpanishAngel12, Sancontoa, Danuschka, severusdraco, Nightfallshadow, Unseen Watcher, City Idiot, PersonaJXT, dedelus, Anora, Saltwater, Queen Isa, Queen of the Paperclips, coolio, copycat, and Bridget.**


	13. Chapter Twelve: So Did You Catch the Jam...

Disclaimer: Me no am JKR.

I'd just like to thank everyone who has reviewed my fic thus far. I really do appreciate the time you take to let me know what you think of Invictus. I can't begin to describe how wonderful it feels each time I get another review alert. And maybe I am obsessive about reviews...but dammit, aren't we all? Grins. So anyway, thanks again, and I adore all of you. I got some truly amazing reviews for last chapter, and I'm sorry I can't answer each and every one individually. I just don't want to risk ffnet's wrath by having even longer A/Ns than I already do.

Oh, and obviously, anyone can use the quotes I've put in the story. They aren't mine, after all, so you hardly need to ask.

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**Chapter Twelve: So Did You Catch the James Bond/Spy Foreshadowing?**

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_The error of youth is to believe that intelligence is a substitute for experience, while the error of age is to believe experience is a substitute for intelligence._

_-Lyman Bryson_

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The rest of September seemed to alternately speed by and drag on into eternity. Harry continued to attend Occlumency lessons with Snape every night, and was slowly but surely getting better at guarding his mind.

Snape himself, unsurprisingly, wasn't very pleased with Harry's progress - while Occlumency was admittedly difficult to learn, Harry did seem to have more trouble picking it up than most. Nevertheless, Dumbledore had high hopes that Harry would be adequately prepared for a meeting with Voldemort by the end of the month, as long as the Dark Lord didn't try to dig too deeply into his mind.

Harry had started treating Dumbledore increasingly coldly when they were in public, something several of his fellow students had likely noticed and mentioned to their parents. Harry was careful to never be outright insulting or rude, but he made it clear that he didn't consider the Headmaster a friend or an ally.

Draco, Neville, and the rest were confused by his abrupt change in attitude, but Harry found that his friends were acting oddly enough themselves that his own behavior could be ignored. Draco, once word of his betrayal got out, alternated between shunning the other Slytherins and trying desperately to weasel his way back into their good graces, while Neville wavered between confidence and timidity. Leander grew ever more short-tempered, and took to disappearing into the Forest for long stretches of time, presumably to talk with Thom or go hunting.

Luna...well, she was always a bit weird.

But even Theo was acting strangely. Every so often his eyes would go unfocused, and a few minutes later he'd return to himself, looking confused and a bit fearful. Harry suspected that Theo's unusual distraction was due to his increasingly obvious crush on Luna - not that the blonde Ravenclaw noticed.

And _that_ was a pairing he'd never have imagined. Theodore was so...pragmatic, while Luna was so...well, not pragmatic. Or practical. Or sensible. But Harry didn't comment on their differences; he was rather more concerned with his own problems, and figured Theo and Luna could figure things out for themselves.

It wasn't only his small circle of friends behaving in an unusual manner, however. Partly due to his influence, Gryffindors were starting to mix with Theo and Draco, which led to some interesting confrontations. The most notable Gryffindor/Slytherin argument was also the only one that the Gryffindors won.

One of the younger Gryffindors had been complaining about the prejudice against muggleborns at Hogwarts, a complaint Draco and most of Gryffindor overheard. Draco, who had stopped by the Gryffindor table to ask Harry if he'd been making any progress on the girlfriend front, decided to shove his opinion down everyone's throats.

"If you want to talk about prejudice," Draco said haughtily, "Let's look at how Hogwarts has treated Slytherins over the last several hundred years. Snakes used to be allowed as familiars, but Hogwarts banned them nine hundred years ago, all because Salazar Slytherin was represented by one."

A few Gryffindors looked startled, while several shifted uncomfortably at this unexpected revelation. None of them were particularly pleased to be cast in the role of the villain, rather than the victim. The silence was broken after only a second, however, by someone who quickly put Draco in his place.

"For Heaven's sake," Granger snapped, scowling, "if you'd ever read Hogwarts, A History, you'd know that snakes were discriminated against not because they were a sign of Slytherin, but because they were eating toad familiars and terrorizing cats. And as Slytherins had been knowingly allowing this to happen, and in some cases encouraging it, the other houses were understandably annoyed. The entire matter came to a head when the Headmaster, a mouse animagus, was swallowed whole while in animal form. That's when the board of Governors decided to ban all snakes as familiars."

Everyone stared at her. Then Harry began to snicker helplessly at the expression on Draco's face - a mix of surprise, anger, and interest that made the pale boy look rather ill.

Neville took the opportunity to nervously check on his toad Trevor, which made Ginny chuckle and soon sent the rest of the table into gales of laughter. Dean, chortling, warned the pudgy boy to keep a wary eye on Harry's pet. Draco went a pale, angry pink, and stalked away before he said something that would force Harry to take action.

That was one of the last truly carefree moments Harry was to feel for quite some time, as just two days later, he attended his first Order meeting.

"I'll have to ask you to leave when we discuss anything sensitive," the Headmaster informed him, "as you haven't yet mastered Occlumency. We are already risking much by allowing you to be present."

"So the rest of the Order members know Occlumency?" Harry asked skeptically.

Dumbledore shot him an admonishing look. "The rest of the Order members are not linked with Voldemort," he reminded Harry sternly. "And you are, by far, the most at risk of being attacked with Legilimency."

Harry didn't argue - sometimes, he knew, it was better not to push. Not that that normally stopped him...but for once, Harry had to admit that Dumbledore was right.

They - he, Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape - Floo'd to somewhere called Grimmauld Place for the meeting. "We only use Hogwarts during the summer," McGonagall explained as Harry looked around in distaste at the dark, dour room they'd arrived in. "Grimmauld Place is almost as safe, and no one is likely to look for us here."

Sirius and Remus greeted him enthusiastically while Snape watched their reunion with a sneer. Then Sirius insulted Snape, and Snape sneered at Sirius, and Sirius started shouting, and Harry suspected they'd have ended up dueling if Remus and McGonagall hadn't stepped in.

"Bastard," Sirius growled as his werewolf friend tugged him away. Harry followed sedately, wondering vaguely if Sirius and Snape realized they acted like over-tired toddlers whenever they were near each other.

The meeting itself was a study in controlled chaos. People yelled at each other, insulted each other, snarled and fought like angry adolescents - and yet somehow, it worked. Things got done - plans were made and approved, steps were taken to ensure the wizarding world's relative safety, envoys were sent to the muggle government with updates.

Harry stayed in a shadowed corner of the room, not wanting to draw too much attention to himself. He didn't get along very well with many the Order members - a number of the older members seemed none too fond of him - and he didn't want to cause the meeting to degenerate even further. He was content enough to sit near the Weasley twins, half-listening to them whisper to each other as he silently insulted most of the Order's plans, ideas, and members.

The two redheads spent most of the time murmuring prank ideas to each other, but did occasionally pipe up with a suggestion. Fred and George really were quite brilliant, Harry noted, and it was a pity that so few of the adults present bothered listening to them.

As the meeting wore on, a plan began formulating in Harry's mind. The twins really were brilliant...and maybe they could help him out.

During a short break for snacks (which was, he soon discovered, a euphemism for 'happy hour for the adults'), he sidled up to the twins, mind racing. He'd heard all about their thus far unrealized dreams to open a joke shop - the Weasleys, especially Molly, were rather vocal about it.

Molly Weasley had also been rather vocal in her protests to Harry's inclusion in the Order. She'd nattered on about him being too young and the like, until Harry lost his temper and shouted her into silence.

Come to think of it, that might not bode well for his plans of an alliance with the twins...

"Ah, Potter," Fred greeted him jovially, slapping him on the back. "Ron wrote to us the other day, with a two page rant on how you're the scum of the earth."

"I'm flattered," Harry said wryly. George chuckled and slung an arm around his shoulders.

"Don't take it personally, Potter-me-lad," the second twin advised with a grin. "Dear Ronald isn't fond of anyone who shows an interest in Ginny."

"And you are?" Harry asked disbelievingly, wondering if they were lulling him into a false sense of security before attacking. They couldn't be happy he was chasing after their sister, no matter how casually - or that he'd snapped at their mother earlier that very evening.

"You're better than that Colin bloke," George said.

"He's a real wet blanket," Fred agreed.

"Scared to death of us."

"And we've only pranked him once or twice since he started seeing our sister."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Once or twice a day, right?" he drawled. Fred and George beamed.

"We've got a smart one here, Gred."

"So it seems, Forge. But is he smart enough to realize that his hands should remain to himself-"

"-even after he starts dating our beloved sister?"

Harry arched an eyebrow. "So confident I'll win her over?"

"Harry," Fred said with a long-suffering sigh, "Gred and I know our ickle sister very well. She likes 'em dark and handsome."

"Hell," George snickered, "if I was a girl, I'd get you myself. It's not just anyone who can stand up to Mum and win, you know."

Harry blinked. "...and that isn't disturbing at all." The twins chuckled.

"Now, what did you come over here for?" Fred asked as George finally removed his arm from Harry's shoulders.

"Er..." Harry glanced around, making certain that no one was listening in on their conversation. "Well, it's like this. You know how I'm supposed to start spying?" It had been one of the main topics of discussion earlier in the evening, so Fred and George did indeed know. "Well, I figure I might need a little help. To, ah, ease the way."

Fred and George exchanged a glance, then each grabbed one of Harry's arms and marched him out of the room, down the hall, and into a small, dusty, empty chamber that had most definitely seen better days. Harry wasn't stupid enough to protest.

"We've got something that might help," Fred murmured, shutting and locking the door behind them. "Extendable Ears - we've designed them, and we know what we'll need to make 'em, but we don't have the money."

"Orbiting Eyes," George added, eyes gleaming. "Loose-Lip Licorice. Truth Toffees. We've got big plans for all of them - but no funds."

Harry grinned. "You make them and supply me with anything that might be useful, and I'll give you the money you need for that shop you want to start up." He had an entire vault full of unused galleons, after all, and it was a shame to let them just sit there.

The twins gaped at him, as if they couldn't believe they'd heard him correctly. "You're barmy," George breathed. "We can't - it's too much."

"Look," Harry said firmly, "you two are geniuses. Not the same way as Granger, maybe, but it's undeniable. Something you invent could very well end up saving my life, which is a bit more important to me than gold."

"Harry, mate-"

"If it makes you feel better," Harry steam-rolled right over George's objection, "then make me a silent partner or something, so I get a share of the profits. Or count it as a loan, and pay me back once you've got the money, all right?"

Fred and George stared at each other for a moment, then broke out in identical wicked grins.

"Sounds good," George said, eyes sparkling just as much as Dumbledore's ever did.

"Sounds fantastic," Fred corrected, just as jubilant as his brother.

"Right," Harry said, relieved. "Meet me on the first Hogsmeade weekend and I'll get you the money. A thousand galleons should work, at least to be going on with."

"Mum's going to kill you," Fred murmured, shaking his head in awe. "She's going to go _spare_."

"So don't tell her where you got the money," Harry retorted, paling at the thought of an angry Molly Weasley. That woman could scream like a banshee, and she already disliked him for being 'disrespectful and unruly', as he'd said some rather rude things at her when she'd tried to kick him out of the meeting "Now, we should probably get back to the others."

Fred unlocked the door with a wave of his wand, and Harry gladly escaped the suffocating little room.

"Ginny better date you," George muttered as they headed back to the meeting room. "Or we'll be sorely disappointed in her taste."

Harry smirked. "Feel free to encourage her."

Everything went fairly smoothly after that, and Harry left the room without complaint when Dumbledore asked him to go. He wandered through the halls, up and down the stairs, taking in the utter creepiness of Sirius' home.

"No wonder he's so screwed up," he muttered, wincing as he eyed a row of severed house elf heads on a wall. "'Eat your vegetables or I'll stick your head up with Minky's'," he said in a high-pitched, whining voice, before pulling a disgusted face.

He turned to leave and ran right into a thankfully living, undecapitated house elf. A rather filthy, decrepit house elf.

"Clumsy blood traitor," it muttered, glaring at him resentfully. "Kreacher should poison them all. Fouling up the Mistress' house..."

"...okay," Harry said slowly, wondering what the hell was wrong with the elf. It wasn't acting anything like Bongo or Dobby. "Are you all right?"

Kreacher sniffed, glaring at him contemptuously. "Improper...asking after a house elf...mudblood boy..."

"Actually," Harry said, torn between disgust and amusement, "I'm a half-blood."

Kreacher shuddered. "Oh, if Mistress could see this," he wailed.

Harry edged away. "...yeah. Look, why don't you go...do something."

Thankfully, Kreacher obeyed and shuffled away, though he muttered under his breath about half-bloods and shame and contamination as he left.

Shaking his head, Harry headed towards the front hall, whistling quietly under his breath. As it turned out, that was a mistake.

Curtains flew open, revealing a portrait of a woman on the wall. She began shrieking at the top of her lungs, so loudly that Harry stumbled back and clapped his hands over his ears.

"DEFILING THE HOUSE OF BLACK! BLOOD TRAITORS AND MUDBLOODS AND HALF-BREEDS! FILTH! BEGONE FROM THIS PLACE!"

"Jesus!" Harry gasped as the woman continued to rant. "What the hell is _wrong _with this house?"

Tonks, Sirius, and Remus burst into the hallway, the first two looking righteously furious, the last merely irritated. Right in the middle of a long-winded diatribe about her son disgracing all of wizardkind, the woman was finally silenced when Tonks managed to grab the curtains and yank them shut. Of course, the auror ended up tripping over her own feet and crashing into a dumbfounded Harry, and they tumbled to the ground in a mess of elbows and pained whimpers. "What is it with women kneeing me in the groin?" Harry asked in a choked voice a little higher in pitch than usual.

Sirius and Remus winced. Tonks, utterly unremorseful, grinned and managed to stumble to her feet.

Sirius, lips twitching, extended a hand to help full Harry up. Harry wobbled a little once he was upright, then shot Tonks a dirty look as he held his hands protectively in front of his battered, ah, equipment.

"What the hell was that about?" he demanded rather hoarsely.

"That was my _dear _mother," Sirius replied, lips twisted angrily. "She isn't exactly pleased to have the Order in her precious death trap of a home. Unfortunately, her portrait is spelled to remain in place no matter what we do to remove it."

"Oh," Harry said, because it seemed fitting.

"Come on, Padfoot, Tonks," Remus spoke up. "Back to the meeting. Harry, try not to disturb Mrs. Black again, all right?"

"Trust me, I won't," Harry replied, eying the covered portrait warily. "My eardrums would never forgive me."

Sirius snorted and patted him on the back, and then the three adults hurried away. Sighing, Harry walked - slightly bowlegged - away from the hall. Bloody freaky house.

Needless to say, he was quite happy to finally leave Black Manor an hour later.

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_RAY: Symmetrical book stacking. Just like the Philadelphia Mass Turbulence of 1947._

_VENKMAN: You're right. No human being would stack books like this._

_-Dan Aykroyd_

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

Unfortunately, Harry's life only got harder and more hectic as time went on. The last two weeks of September were enough to make him want to scream in frustration. There was just so much to do!

And the people around him weren't exactly easing the way. Classes were hellish - not because he had trouble with the coursework, but because he was actually doing well.

For some reason, it annoyed the hell out of both Know-It-All Granger and Ronnie Weasley whenever he knew the answer to a question or managed to make a new spell work on the first try.

"Teacher's pet," Ron hissed when McGonagall praised him for turning his pillow into a porcupine.

Ron was right, much to Harry's horror. He really was something of a teacher's pet, through no fault of his own. He tried to be a prickly bastard - he was insolent and argumentative and once loudly questioned McGonagall during a review session as to why anyone would need to change a turtle to a teapot - but all the teachers, excepting only Snape and Umbridge, practically adored him. Even Snape tolerated him, which was unheard of when it came to Gryffindors.

Hell, Snape didn't even tolerate Ravenclaws or Hufflepuffs!

"But why?" Harry demanded, distressed, when the sheer injustice of being treated with affection finally wore him down. "Why do you people _like_ me? No one else does!"

McGonagall, to whom he'd been pouring out his woes, snorted into her teacup. "Mister Potter," she said archly once she'd set her saucer back on her desk, "after dealing with Professor Snape for so long, we are immune to your sarcasm and moodiness. And your disrespectful attitude would be much more effective if we weren't all aware that you truly do respect us."

"But I don't!" he protested. His Head of House merely sniffed in disbelief.

Granger, like Weasley, despised Harry for being a teacher's pet - not because she disapproved of good relations with the professors, but because before he'd come along, she'd been the bright shining star of Hogwarts. To add insult to injury, Harry also got along with Snape far better than she ever had, as the Slytherin professor thought her nothing but a brown-nosing show-off.

To Harry's dismay, Granger seemed to have taken his presence as a challenge. In every class, she constantly tried to out-do him. When she succeeded, she beamed smugly at him; when she failed, she'd act as if he'd offended her somehow.

It was driving Harry barmy.

Really, the only Gryffindors he actually got along with were Neville, Ginevra, and Dean Thomas. All the others either felt he was betraying them by associating with Malfoy, or were too in awe of his status as the Boy Who Lived to do more than gape at him in wonder.

Dean was fairly laid-back and easy to get along with, though he did have the annoying habit of saying 'Cool!' every other sentence. Ginny, though she inexplicably continued to date Creevey and refrain from jumping Harry, had a wicked sense of humor and seemed to enjoy being around him, even when he flirted with her outrageously.

It was Ginny who explained exactly why his academic success irritated Granger and Ron so much.

"Hermione's a bit overenthusiastic, when it comes to schoolwork," she informed Harry about three weeks into September as they played a friendly game of chess in the common room. Harry was losing badly - he wasn't particularly good at strategizing. Tactics he excelled at, but strategy gave him a headache.

"A _bit _overenthusiastic?" Harry repeated, sacrificing a pawn so he could later advance one of his knights.

"All right, so extremely overenthusiastic," Ginevra corrected herself, capturing one of his rooks. "But I can't really blame her. She doesn't really have any friends and she's horrible at flying, so all she has left is school. And for years, it's been the one thing she's excelled at - that she's done better than everyone else."

"What, so she thinks she needs to be the best?" Harry asked rather incredulously.

"Exactly," Ginny said with a sharp nod, even as took his second rook. "After all, learning is about the only thing she's really good at. And the only people who like her are the teachers, so when you show up and win them all over, I suppose she feels like you're...I don't know, stealing something from her. What really makes her fume, though, is that frankly, she _is _smarter than you, and you're still doing better in class than her most of the time."

"My ego begs for mercy."

The youngest Weasley merely grinned, ruthlessly putting his king in check. "Now Ron," she said as Harry managed to get out of check by slipping his king one space over, "he loathes Hermione for being a know-it-all, and so he automatically hates you, as well, assuming that you're just as insufferable as her. Of course, the whole flirting with me thing infuriates him as well."

Harry's response was a glib, "If I said you have a gorgeous body, would you hold it against me?"

"No. Checkmate."

"Bugger."

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_To paraphrase Oedipus, Hamlet, Lear, and all those guys, "I wish I had known this some time ago."_

_-Roger Zelazny_

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A few days before the end of the month, one of Harry's snake spies arrived at Hogwarts.

Leander was the one to find it, on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest. "You told me to keep a watch for any snakes," he reminded Harry. "And this one was acting oddly - snakes normally try to stay away from Hogwarts, but this one was headed straight for the castle."

"Thanks," Harry said with a nod, carefully taking the black-striped tan snake from the vampire. Green poked his head out from under Harry's sleeve and hissed a warning - :My human, back off and go find your own.:

Black-striped hissed back a rather vile insult; Green bristled.

:That's enough: Harry said, moving to sit on Leander's bed. The vampire watched closely - he was fascinated by Harry's parseltongue abilities, and always had been.

:My territory: Green insisted petulantly.

:Quiet. Now you, Color of Sand, what did you learn:

The tan snake - Color of Sand - flicked its tongue out to taste the air before replying. :He speaks often with his friend-snake; he calls her Nagini. She trusts us, and tells us his plans. He wants to harm the snakelizard.:

Harry frowned, his brow furrowing in thought. "Snakelizard?" he repeated aloud, bemused. "What on earth?"

:Snakelizard: Green repeated, sensing his confusion. :Big big, with wings and fire for breath.:

"A dragon," Harry murmured. "Why would he want to hurt a dragon?"

Dragon. Dragon...

"Draco," Harry realized, eyes widening. "Oh shit."

Leander snorted, but Harry ignored the vampire, too intent on questioning his spy.

:Tell me more of his plans to harm the snakelizard.:

:He has decided nothing yet: Color of Sand replied. :But he speaks often of his desire to hurt those who harm him. And he speaks of you, Golden-Boy. He wishes to make you his hatchling.:

Harry blinked. "_Hatchling?_" What the hell?

But then again, Parseltongue was difficult to fully interpret. Color of Sand could have meant many things by hatchling - follower, heir, or child. Follower, most likely.

:Anything else:

:He says often that he wishes to strike out, but must wait until he has gathered his full nest.:

Nest. Army?

:He has spoken with many bloodbreaths, like that one: Color of Sand added, tongue flicking out towards Leander.

Harry's eyebrows shot up. "Leander, I thought you said _all_ the vampires are on our side."

Leander shifted uncomfortably on his feet, looking a bit sheepish. "That was to intimidate Fudge," he admitted with a sigh. "There are...well, there are those who rebel against my father. They dislike the idea of helping you and Hogwarts; Voldemort, after all, has promised us much."

"About how many vampires are on Voldemort's side, then?" Harry asked quietly.

Leander wouldn't quite meet his eyes. "Five hundred or so."

Harry's jaw dropped. "That's over a third of Britain's vampire population! Why didn't you say anything? I've been counting on full support!"

"My father and sister are working on hunting down the ringleaders," Leander said curtly, lips pale and tightly drawn. "Once they have been eradicated, the rest will return to our side."

"You hope they will, that is," Harry interjected, furious. "You should've told me."

Leander scowled.

"Shit," Harry muttered. "Keep the snake here with you; I need to go speak with Dumbledore." He set Color of Sand gently on the bed, then stood. "And maybe think about what the hell you were doing, keeping something like that from me." Leander looked torn between anger and guilt.

Harry stormed out of the room, not once glancing back.

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_Yes, risk-taking is inherently failure-prone. Otherwise, it would be called sure-thing-taking._

_-Tim McMahon_

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Harry was a bit surprised to see Snape in the Headmaster's office - it was early in the evening on a Saturday, and Snape usually spent that time grading papers or preparing for Occlumency lessons.

"Ah, Harry," Dumbledore said from his desk, eyes grave. "I was just about to send for you."

Harry blinked, taken aback. "Oh?"

"Perhaps you should sit down, Harry," Dumbledore suggested. "Now, before we begin, would you like a lemon drop?"

A noise vaguely reminiscent of a growl emerged from Snape's throat.

"Erm, no thanks," Harry said, shooting the spy a wary look out of the corner of his eye. No need to antagonize Snape, not when the man seemed to be about ready to attack.

"Alas," Dumbledore sighed, "why does no one else understand the beauty of the sherbet lemon?"

Harry stared.

"For Merlin's sake, Albus, just get on with it," Snape ordered impatiently, leaning against a space of wall between the portraits of two grumpy-looking Headmasters.

"Patience, Severus," Dumbledore lightly rebuked his employee. "Now, Harry, why don't you tell us why you're here?"

Snape's lips twisted into a scowl - the greasy-haired man did detest wasting time, and as far as Harry could tell, he thought time was being wasted whenever a non-Slytherin bothered speaking. Or possibly breathing.

Harry collapsed into a chair, wondering exactly how he should go about telling Dumbledore and Snape that he could speak to snakes. How would they take it? Most people thought that Parselmouths were inherently evil...and Dumbledore was the epitome of all things good and fluffy.

Ah, sod it. He'd never been much one for tact, anyway.

"I'm a Parselmouth."

Well, that did get a reaction, though not as much of one as Harry had anticipated. Snape merely straightened up, his eyes widening for a moment before narrowing in thought. Dumbledore exhaled slowly and sagged back into his overstuffed armchair, looking as if he'd aged a decade in just a few seconds. The twinkle in his eyes wasn't gone, but had dimmed considerably.

"I see," Dumbledore finally replied, his voice quieter than usual. "I had wondered..."

"You wondered what, exactly?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"I have long suspected that some of Voldemort's powers were transferred to you the night he was banished," Dumbledore explained, ignoring Snape's flinch at the sound of the Dark Lord's name. "And when I saw your ease with your snake familiar, it occurred to me that you might have gained his ability to speak Parseltongue."

"And you never thought to, say, ask me?" Harry snapped. Couldn't Dumbledore ever be straightforward about anything?

"Would you have answered?" Dumbledore asked calmly, but with a hint of real curiosity mixed in.

"Yeah, I would have," Harry said, his hands curling into white-knuckled fists. "I'm not a child, _sir_. I don't keep things from you just for the hell of it - I always have a reason. And if you'd just asked me if I was a Parselmouth, I'd have told you right away."

"That's enough, Potter," Snape said brusquely. Harry relaxed, not wanting to get on Snape's bad side when his next Occlumency lesson was just a couple of hours away. The Potions Master was with the Order, yes, but he was still a petty, malicious bastard who enjoyed tormenting his students, and Harry wasn't stupid enough to bring the patented Wrath of Snape upon himself.

"I apologize for underestimating you, Harry," Dumbledore said sincerely. "You must understand, however, that you do, on occasion, act in a less than mature manner."

Harry was tempted to mutter a sullen, "Whatever," but imagined that would only prove the Headmaster's point. Instead, he shrugged and said, "Fine. Anyway, Green wasn't the only snake I bought the day I came to Hogwarts. I got two others, as well, and I sent them to find Voldemort and spy on him, if possible. Everyone knows Voldemort's a Parselmouth, after all, and he'd never have reason to suspect a snake, not when he thinks he's the only one able to speak Parseltongue."

Snape nodded slowly. "Perhaps you aren't hopeless after all, Potter. Now get to the point of this _fascinating _story."

Harry suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. "Right. Anyway, one of the snakes showed up today with some news. The first thing the snake said was that Voldemort wants to hurt Draco."

Dumbledore sighed and Snape's lips thinned to a pale line. "We will take whatever precautions we can," the Headmaster promised. "What else did your snake have to say?"

"He mentioned that Voldemort wants to recruit me, and that he's waiting to build up his forces before progressing beyond the occasional raid. And...well, Voldemort also has some vampires on his side. Five hundred or so, according to Leander."

Dumbledore wearily removed his spectacles to rub at his eyes. Snape's eyes were practically slits.

"Your vampire friend assured us that all his kind supported the Order," the Potions Master hissed.

"Well, he was wrong," Harry said shortly. "He is fairly certain that his father can reclaim most of the five hundred, though."

Snape snorted derisively. "Forgive me if I remain skeptical, Potter."

Harry just shrugged, not up to defending Leander, but also not eager to malign one of his best friends.

"This is disheartening," Dumbledore murmured, sliding his spectacles back into place. "But we must remember, Severus, that until fairly recently we believed that all the vampires would side with Voldemort."

"And we are so certain they won't?" the younger man sneered.

"They won't," Harry ground out angrily.

"Enough," Dumbledore ordered. "We will discuss this further at the next Order meeting. Now, Harry, I'm afraid we have more troubling news. Severus was called to a Death Eater meeting last night."

Harry glanced quickly at his professor, who merely glared back.

"Voldemort has decided it is time to begin actively recruiting you," the Headmaster continued. "I believe he gave you a letter, Severus?"

"Yes," Snape bit out, withdrawing from a pocket of his voluminous robes a scroll tied shut with a ribbon. "It is charmed to be unreadable to anyone but you, Potter." He tossed the scroll to Harry, who caught it easily.

Swallowing nervously, Harry untied the forest green ribbon and unrolled the parchment. It was blank, at first, but slowly spidery crimson writing began to spread over the scroll.

_Harry Potter_, it read,

_Snape will have told you the origins of this missive. If you would like to discuss further an alliance, go to The Hog's Head at sunset on the Saturday of the first Hogsmeade weekend._

Harry blinked. "Well, that was short," he commented, after repeating the message aloud to Snape and Dumbledore. "And why isn't he more worried about me taking this to you and telling you Professor Snape is a Death Eater?" he asked the Headmaster.

Snape smirked. "I was given permission to Obliviate you if you reacted unfavorably," he said, in a tone that made it pretty clear he would have enjoyed screwing with Harry's mind immensely.

"Sadist," Harry muttered resentfully.

"Indeed."

"The first Hogsmeade weekend," Dumbledore murmured, interrupting them. "It's scheduled for next week, I believe. Is he ready, Severus?"

Snape eyed Harry appraisingly. "No. If the Dark Lord has reason to believe he is hiding something, his defenses will crumble within moments. But it will have to do."

Oddly enough, that didn't do much to ease Harry's worries.

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Review Responses:

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**The Slice - **Dude, I adore long reviews. I made you angry with Snape? Sweet! I was afraid he was a little too mild. And I adore Neville as well. Nimbirosa might well kill me for admitting this, but the chapter I'm currently writing (chapter 14)...well, let's just say I was sorely tempted to add in some strong Harry/Neville undertones. In fact, I had to edit it several times to get rid of some serious subtext. I really am hopeless. As my High Priestess, your main duty lies in stroking my ego. Nakedness is entirely optional. Leer.

**japanese-jew - **I can't name a single song by either Good Charlotte or Simple Plan. I generally listen to Metallica, Coldplay, Pink, Eve 6, Santana, Queen, Audioslave, Nirvana, R.E.M., Everclear, Goo Goo Dolls, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Weezer, Matchbox 20, and Sarah McLachlan. I just got a Guns N' Roses cd, and a cd by Ra, both of which I love. I also got Martina McBride's greatest hits. Mom says I've got eclectic tastes. Heh.

**Wren Truesong - **'If I was going to kill you, I would have done it already.' ...I'm not sure how to respond to that. So, moving swiftly on...to the cackling. There is nothing better than a good cackle. Seriously. And Canon!Colin would probably kill me for what I'm doing to his Invictus self.

**dress-without-sleeves - **Heh. First fanfic I ever wrote, I killed off the main character about three chapters before the end. I brought her back eventually, but for a while she was well and truly dead. Good times. Harry the Spy...-snorts-. I can't see that without wondering if Harriet had a sex change.

**Ezmerelda - **Compared to many of my oneshots, this entire story is a big fluffy ball of...fluff.

**captuniv - **I had to take down my FAQs, but one of my original clues about Harry's form was that it wasn't native to England.

Thanks also to: **ERMonkey Burner of Cookies,** **meoio, Dark Side of the Storm, John20111, athenakitty, Quillian, Aticia, MadEyes, azntgr01, HecateDeMort, Daughter of Darkness777, IamSiriusgrl, Julie Long, HPfreakout, The Lady Reaper of the Shadows, Jensindenial3516, Tondo-the-half-elf, samuraiduck27, Deidre Sage, Keaira Black, Curtis Zidane Ziraa, Pretty Padfoot, RavenEcho, RoxieSnape, Salric, Night-Owl123, HeWhoComesWithTheDawn, bandgsecurtiyaw, Nimbirosa, Broken Outcast, Georgia Tea, lone-child, UnSerious Sirius, steffles24, Cherrysinger, seastones88, E.A.V., Larna Mandrea, WeasleyTwinsLover1112, Nomanic, VernonT, NoAlias, gatogirl1, RebelHanyouofDarkness, D3, jrd238, Cado, stupidx, dumbluck, Saltwater, snickers, Lady11Occult, MysterioX, Insanitysplea, GaLlOpInGaRgOyLeS, koryan'shea, ROSSIGNOL, Letishia, Master Slytherin, The Wyrd Sister, A-man, padfoot, USA-Jeanette, RedRaspberry, bobmcbobbob1, kobe23, illusionaric, the penguins are coming, Sierralia, Scary-Girly, Windy River, HPBeatles, wolfbear, shazia)Riavera, C.F.Evangel, CheddarTrek, Luna Mae, Eaiva le Fay, goddessa39, Laterose, Dernhelm-caorann, clear venom, padfoot'smoon, lavender-skyes, darkangelgep, ella of frell, x Red Rose x, taintedvirtue, Didge, SensiblyTainted, Mariann, Silly Penguin, HaRrYrOxMuhSoX, Dr Gero, Dobbey, critic unknown, mysterywalker,** and** Sesshoumarusmate4life.**


	14. Chapter Thirteen: Is It Just Me, Or Are

Disclaimer: HP and Co don't belong to me.

You know, I just realized Invictus actually has something of a plot. Do you realize what a breakthrough this is for me? I've never written anything with a real plot before. Dude.

Thanks, as always, to the betalicious Nimbirosa and M'cha Araem.

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**Chapter Thirteen: Is It Just Me, Or Are My Chapter Titles Really Stupid?**

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_If we don't succeed we run the risk of failure._

_-J. Danforth Quayle_

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The evening before he was due to meet with Voldemort, Harry arrived at Professor Snape's office a few minutes early for his daily Occlumency lesson. He was full of nervous energy and ill-concealed fear, and his concentration was completely shot to hell.

Snape hit him with the Legilimens curse the moment he passed through the door, and sliced right through Harry's hastily-constructed shields.

Images flashed before Harry's eyes, too quick for his mind to fully comprehend them. Then, after what seemed like forever, Snape settled on one specific memory.

Harry swallowed, knowing right away that it was one of the few embarrassing memories he had thus far managed to keep from the Professor.

_Pain. So much pain, muscles screaming, blood seeping from myriad cuts, bruises covering every inch of his body..._

_He was tired of being helpless, so tired of being the hapless prey of everyone he met. He had power, Leander said as much, so why couldn't he defend himself?_

_Grimacing, he slowly stood, clutching the alley wall once he was on his feet to keep from sliding back down to the ground. If he fell again, he wasn't sure he'd be able to get back up._

_Leander said he had power - magic, just like the man who'd beaten him for the sheer sadistic joy of it. He probably had more power than that bastard. He just didn't know how to use it._

_"I'll learn, then," he muttered, gingerly touching the swelling around his right eye. "I'll show them all. They won't hurt me again."_

_Determination welled up in him, determination and desperation._

_He was tired of hurting._

Harry opened his eyes and found himself sprawled on the dungeon floor, panting as if he'd been running a marathon. Slowly, he climbed to his feet, not daring to meet Snape's disapproving gaze.

"Mister Potter. You are to meet the Dark Lord tomorrow," Snape snarled. "If you expect to survive by employing defenses as shoddy as those I just encountered, you are even more a fool than I thought."

Harry's jaw tightened, but he didn't retort. Snape was right, and they both knew it.

"If you continue to let your emotions rule you, you will die," Snape continued inexorably.

"I know, all right?" Harry snapped, glaring at his teacher. "You think I'm not trying? Maybe I'm just too stupid to do this! Too stupid, too weak, absolutely useless - you think I don't know it? I'm _trying!_"

"Try harder. And fifteen points from Gryffindor for your uninvited outburst."

Harry's fists clenched almost of their own accord, but he managed to stop from doing something that would lose him even more points. He personally thought the entire point system was a bit ridiculous, but he wasn't about to cripple Gryffindor and get himself lynched by his already hostile housemates.

He took a deep breath, trying to separate himself from his emotions.

After three more attacks, two of which he managed to rebuff easily, Snape holstered his wand and watched contemplatively as Harry picked himself up off the floor yet again.

"Potter, you're to go directly to Dumbledore's office at curfew. You may leave."

Dumbledore's office? Harry blinked, still dazed from Snape ransacking his brain. "What does he want?"

"_Dismissed_, Potter."

Harry glared, but didn't protest further.

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_TED: My orders came through. My squadron ships out tomorrow. We're bombing the storage depots at Daiquiri at 1800 hours. We're coming in from the north, below their radar._

_ELAINE: When will you be back?_

_TED: I can't tell you that. It's classified._

_-David Zucker (Airplane)_

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Dumbledore welcomed him warmly and offered him a lemon drop, which Harry politely declined. "What's this about, sir?" he asked as he sat across from the older man, cutting straight to the heart of the matter.

The Headmaster smiled faintly as he gestured to a brown paper package (tied up with string) on his desk. "This belonged to your father, Harry, and I feel it's time it be passed on to you."

Harry's eyes widened, and he slowly reached out to take the parcel. He turned it over slowly in his hands, wondering what it could possibly be.

Something of his father's. Something belonging to one of his parents.

His throat suspiciously tight, he untied the string and ripped the paper off, baring a silvery, almost fluid length of material.

Unfolding it, he caught sight of a hood and realized the material was a cloak. An invisibility cloak, to be precise.

"Merlin," he breathed, staring at it avidly. "Sirius mentioned this in his stories, but he told me that it was destroyed along with the house. This...this is really my dad's?"

"It is indeed."

Harry's stomach felt as if it were all twisted up in knots, and there was an unpleasant prickling at the corners of his eyes. He'd never had anything of his parents' before, and he'd never before realized how much he'd missed out on. This cloak...his dad should've given it to him himself.

"There's another matter we need to discuss as well, Harry," Dumbledore said kindly. "If you will follow me? And please do wear the cloak; it wouldn't do for both of us to be seen going where we're going."

Befuddled, but too entranced by his new heirloom to argue or demand an explanation, Harry shrugged on his father's cloak. Dumbledore nodded approvingly, then stood and led him from his office.

Harry pondered their destination as he followed the Headmaster, coming up with wild theories ranging from a kitchen raid to a secret attack on a Death Eater base. He wasn't expecting Dumbledore to lead him straight to the fifth floor, or come to a stop outside of a door that somehow seemed vaguely familiar.

"Ah, here we are," the Headmaster said jovially. "Sirius and Remus told me you came across them as they were warding this room."

Harry's sucked in a startled breath as the memory suddenly became very clear and sharp. "There's a memory charm on the room, isn't there?" he asked once he'd recovered from the shock to his mind.

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes. However, once I key you into the wards, the forgetfulness charm will no longer affect you."

Harry wasn't at all pleased to find that his brain had been tampered with, and would have glared at Dumbledore to show his displeasure - but as he was currently invisible, that would have been a rather futile gesture.

"So what's so important about this room, anyway?" he demanded, a definite edge to his voice.

"This," Dumbledore said, taking out his wand and tapping it twice against the door to open it, "is the only section of all of Hogwarts free of anti-Apparation wards."

The room was medium-sized and dimly lit, and completely bare. Harry was less interested in the room's appearance, however, than its use.

"Apparation? What?"

"It was Sirius' idea, actually," Dumbledore said conversationally, letting the door fall shut again. "His years as a Marauder and as a prisoner of Azkaban have given him a deep appreciation for hidden exits and methods of escape."

"Is that very smart, though?" Harry asked dubiously. "What if a Death Eater tries to get in?"

Dumbledore smiled. "You have a license, Harry; you know very well that a person cannot Apparate to a place they aren't aware exists. As far as most everyone knows, Hogwarts is completely inaccessible by Apparation. Only those who know of the existence of this room will be able to use it. Furthermore, the door only opens from the outside; anyone who Apparates into the room is trapped there until another Order member lets them out. There is an alarm in my office that sounds every time someone enters the room, so no one will be left in here to rot."

"Why are you showing this to me?" Harry asked, still skeptical of the wisdom of having such a weak spot in the castle's defenses.

"If you are injured after your meeting with Voldemort, it would be best if you arrived back at Hogwarts as soon as possible," Dumbledore explained. "And if you leave your new cloak here, you will be able to return to your dorms after curfew with no one the wiser."

Harry slowly smiled. "Thanks," he said quietly. Oddly enough, he felt less afraid now, and more confident that he'd pull this off.

Which was all to the good, really. He'd need all the confidence he could muster to get through this alive.

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_The difference between news and gossip lies in whether you raise your voice or lower it._

_-Franklin P. Jones_

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Ginny walked to Hogsmeade with Alison McKierney, her best friend of five years. It was just the two of them this trip, which was actually fairly unusual, as they were normally accompanied by several others. But Ron had wanted to be alone with Hannah, and Colin had promised to spend the day tutoring his brother in Charms.

Harry had made a flirtatious comment about taking her boyfriend's place, but Ginny had quickly learned not to take him seriously.

Truth be told, she was a bit worried about the boy. He was acting increasingly short-tempered and moody, and for the past several days had gone around snapping at everyone who so much as looked at him a little too long - which was pretty much everyone, as Harry (what with the long hair and earrings) was certainly an interesting sight.

Ginny had pointed out that if he didn't like attention, then he probably should try to blend in a little more, and maybe tone down the attitude. She probably shouldn't have lectured him when he was already in a foul mood, as Harry had certainly had some choice things to say in reply. She'd been so stunned that he'd taken out his temper on _her _that she hadn't even contemplated retorting until he was gone.

"Ginny?"

Blinking, she looked over at Alison. "Sorry?"

Alison sighed. "You haven't paid attention to anything I've been saying, have you?"

Ginny smiled sheepishly. "What gave it away?"

"I asked if you wanted Malfoy to be your hot love monkey. You said yes."

"Eeew." Ginny scrunched up her nose in disgust automatically, picturing the Slytherin in question.

"He's not that bad," Alison said fairly. "He's too pale and his nose is pointy, but his eyes are nice."

"Oh, come on! He's a complete arse," Ginny protested.

"So's Potter, and you're friends with him." There was a hint of disapproval in Alison's voice - according to her, Harry was a self-absorbed prat.

Alison always had been a fairly good judge of character.

"Look, I know he's far from perfect, but he really isn't all that bad," Ginny said wearily.

"Colin would disagree," Alison said darkly. "Look, Ginny, just be careful, all right?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Alison, I'm dating Colin. I _like_ Colin. He's sweet and thoughtful and cares a lot about me. I'm not about to break up with him for Harry. I don't even like Harry like that."

All right, so Harry wasn't bad looking at all, and for the most part she got along with him pretty well. But something about him unsettled her - he was so on edge all the time that it was tiring just being near him.

"Ginny," Alison said slowly, stopping outside of Honeydukes, "are those your brothers?"

"Where?" Ginny asked, glancing around curiously.

"At the Gringotts post," Alison said, pointing.

Ginny squinted in that direction. Sure enough, there her idiot twin brothers were, standing idly near the wooden structure and chatting amiably with the goblin manning (or would that be 'goblinning'?) it.

"What are they doing here?" Ginny wondered aloud, hands on her hips in a pose she'd picked up from her mother after observing how, when combined with a glare, it could reduce her brothers into stuttering, fearful globs of freckled goo.

"Let's just hope nothing blows up," Alison said, before letting out a heartfelt groan. "And it just got ten times worse. Look who's headed their way."

Sadie Sanderson was a seventh year Ravenclaw known best for the size of both her chest and her crush on Fred. Even now she was headed right towards Ginny's hapless brothers, shoulders thrown back to better showcase her considerable assets.

"I don't get it," Ginny confessed, eying the older girl thoughtfully. "How does she keep them from drooping?"

"That's Sanderson for you," Alison said wryly. "Defying gravity one breast at a time."

"Think she uses a charm or something?"

Alison snorted. "Sure. She _wingardium leviosas _them all through the day."

Ginny couldn't resist sneaking her wand out and muttering a quiet, "Finite incantatem." Shockingly, nothing happened.

"Well, there goes that theory," Ginny sighed.

"You're such an idiot."

"Shush."

"Honestly, Ginny..." Alison froze. "Oh no."

"What now?" Ginny asked, watching in amusement as Fred tried to fend off his admirer.

"Potter. Heading straight for your brothers."

Ginny's eyes widened. "This can't be good." What if Ron had mentioned to the twins how much attention Harry paid her? Oh Merlin, she'd disown both of them if they started a brawl in the middle of the street.

"You don't say," Alison said sarcastically. "You think they know each other?"

"Not well enough to be meeting here," Ginny denied, mind racing as she watched Harry greet her brothers. He dismissed Sadie rather sharply - or so Ginny assumed, judging by the Ravenclaw's offended glower as she stalked away - and turned to speak quietly with the twins. Then he started talking with the goblin, who didn't seem at all pleased to be near the esteemed boy hero of the wizarding world.

Oddly enough, the thought that Harry was friendly with the twins was even more troubling than the thought that the three of them getting in a fight. The amount of trouble the twins could cook up, with Harry's assistance...it didn't bear thinking about.

"See how the goblin's scowling at him?" Ginny murmured, deciding to worry later about the devastation that would no doubt be caused by a Weasley/Potter alliance. "I mean, even more than goblins normally scowl? Bill told me there's nothing goblins hate more than thieves, and I'm pretty sure Harry's not always on the straight and narrow."

"So why deal with him at all?" Alison didn't seem at all shocked by the implication that Harry might have had illegal dealings in the past. But then again, she already believed the worst of the new Gryffindor.

"Because goblins never turn down a chance at a profit," Ginny replied, just a little smug that she knew something her friend didn't. "They may dislike Harry - they dislike a lot of people - but they won't let that get in the way of business."

"But what business could Harry and your brothers have with Gringotts?"

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_Every time I try to define a perfectly stable person, I am appalled by the dullness of that person._

_-J.D. Griffin_

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Once Harry had transferred the necessary funds to the Weasley twins' new account, he gladly left the Gringotts post with Fred and George and headed to The Three Broomsticks.

"Gnarsnap didn't seem to like you very much," Fred observed as the three of them ducked into the busy pub. It looked as if Hogwarts had completely invaded the place - students were everywhere, laughing and chattering away as if they hadn't a single worry in the world.

"So? Goblins are suspicious bastards," Harry said rather testily as they found an empty table.

"You know, Fred," George said with a friendly smile, "I seem to recall something our beloved brother Bill once said...something about goblins and thieves."

"By George, George, I remember the same thing! What an amazing-"

"Shut up," Harry snapped, unamused. Goblins made him edgy, and always had. Sure, he'd had occasional dealings with them in the past, but he'd never gotten used to the way they seemed to know, right away, that he wasn't exactly an honest man.

The twins exchanged a glance, before George said, "We don't want stolen money, Harry."

Harry froze, then stood, glaring at the two Weasleys.

He was angry. Furious, even. But more than that, he was hurt.

"So good to know your real opinion of me," he snarled, then turned to stalk away, preferably with a dramatic swirl of his cloak. But Fred reached across the table and grabbed his arm before he had a chance to move more than an inch or two.

"Sit down, Harry," George ordered, not unkindly.

"I'd rather not," Harry said stiffly.

"Look, we had to make sure, all right?" Fred said quietly. "Our business is pretty much riding on the money you gave us, and if it did turn out to be stolen...well, let's just say our future would be less about pranks and more about a five year sentence to Azkaban."

Harry knew, deep down, that their suspicions had been reasonable - justified, even. Yes, he was a thief, even if he'd never done anything on a large enough scale to loan someone a thousand stolen galleons. But he did have his own brand of honor, and he was sick of people missing that.

"Let go."

Sighing, Fred did so. "We're sorry," George said before Harry could escape. "Maybe we should've trusted you."

"But what would _you_ have done in our position? A thousand galleons - it seems like it's too good to be legal, and you start thinking, what if it is?"

Harry wasn't exactly appeased, but he did sit back down, much to Fred and George's relief.

"Now, let's get down to business," Fred said, apparently eager to change the subject. "We've got enough to start manufacturing our products. We've already printed up some order forms, which we'll have Ginny pass out at Hogwarts. If all goes as planned, within a couple years we'll have made enough by owl order to open our own shop. In the meantime, you'll be our silent partner."

"Ten percent of the profits will go to you," George took over. "If that's all right. We were going to give you fifteen percent, but after we deduct the savings for the shop and the price of the ingredients...we really can't spare more than ten percent or so. Besides, we _are_ giving you our goods for free."

Harry nodded absently, wondering privately at how the twins could go from being irresponsible mischief-makers to competent businessmen so easily. If Molly Weasley were to see this side of them, she'd probably have a heart attack.

"When can you start supplying me?" he asked curiously. He had a feeling he'd need all the help he could get when it came to Voldemort.

The identical redheads grinned simultaneously, and George pulled a fleshy-colored string out of his pocket.

"An Extendable Ear," Fred explained as Harry cautiously took the device. "Put one end in your ear, say 'Go', and the other end'll search out the nearest conversation taking place."

"Nice," Harry murmured approvingly, carefully coiling the string and putting it in a pocket.

Fred was already holding something else out to him - a pair of flat silvery discs. "Orbiting Eyes," George said proudly as Harry picked up the discs and studied them closely. "To activate them, just say 'I spy'. Then say 'go' and one of them will start exploring everything in the area. You have a limited ability to direct where it goes - 'I spy left' with make it go to the left, 'I spy up' will make it go up, and so on. The 'I spy' command will be recognized while the Eye is less than a hundred feet away, but any further than that and you won't be able to control its direction any more. The second disk reflects what the first one sees."

"Brilliant," Harry said, stunned. "Bloody brilliant."

"That's all we've got finished for now," Fred said regretfully. "But we're working on a few other projects that should help you out in the future."

"Thanks," Harry said sincerely, deciding this more than made up for their earlier lack of trust. That had just hurt his pride...but this could save his life someday.

"Think nothing of it, Harry me lad," George said smugly. "Now, how goes it with our dear sister?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "It doesn't. She's made it pretty clear I'm 'just a friend'."

"Ouch," Fred said sympathetically. "That has to hurt."

Harry shrugged. "Not really," he said honestly. He barely knew the girl, after all, and while he flirted with her outrageously and thought she was quite pretty, he really had no intentions of dating anyone anytime soon. He had quite enough on his plate having to deal with a girlfriend on top of everything else.

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_What I look forward to is continued immaturity followed by death._

_-Dave Barry_

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Harry spent the rest of the day wandering about making a nuisance of himself - something he was admittedly quite good at. By the time the sun started to set, the denizens of Hogsmeade had stopped staring at him in awe and had started glaring at him in irritation (which was definitely a step up, in his personal opinion).

He supposed he probably shouldn't have grabbed that little Hufflepuff third year and tried to trade him for a box of sugar quills.

Okay, perhaps it _had _been a bad idea to inform some of the younger muggleborn students that the cockroach clusters didn't really have any cockroaches in them, but hey, protein was good for them, right? And he didn't see why those same students were also so angry that he'd told them acid pops were named thus because they were laced with LSD - he hadn't forced them to eat them and burn holes in their tongues.

But he honestly hadn't meant to set those fireworks off in the store, and the fire hadn't been _that_ bad. Was it his fault everyone else was so easy to annoy?

Hardly.

Yet by the time he finally visited The Hog's Head (fashionably late at ten minutes after sunset), the news had spread, and the bartender blocked his way the moment he set foot inside the establishment.

"Try not to destroy the place, boy," the old man barked.

"Today was the only time that's ever happened to me," he protested immediately. "And it was an accident!"

The bartender looked unimpressed and not at all reassured. "Don't go near anything sharp or flammable. Keep your wand away. And no alcohol - Merlin only knows what you'd get up to when drunk."

"Fine," Harry agreed, trying not to redden in embarrassment.

The grizzled man finally stepped aside and let Harry through. He glanced around the room, which was mostly empty but for a couple of scowling men in a corner and a hooded figure at one of the center tables.

Harry headed for the hooded man, noting that the cloak he wore seemed very expensive indeed.

And the cane leaning against the table was far too familiar. Harry had, after all, seen brief glimpses of it in Knockturn Alley...

"Malfoy," he said quietly as he sat across from the aristocratic pureblood. "Playing errand boy?"

"Harry Potter. You're late," Malfoy Senior sneered, looking him over coldly. "And rather short for a hero."

"Why, Mister Malfoy, you think I'm a hero? I'm flattered," Harry breathed, fluttering his eyelashes.

Malfoy's eyes narrowed to slits, and he leaned slowly forward. Harry resisted the urge to move away - Malfoy was all sharpness and danger, and frankly, it scared him. "You would be wise, Potter, not to bait me. I am not so easily ensnared as my son."

"That's what they all say," Harry said, dismissing Malfoy's words with a wave of his hand. Then he blinked. "Well, not the 'son' bit, but other than that..."

"Spare me your half-witticisms, boy," Malfoy drawled, standing. "Follow me."

Harry bit back a petulant remark and did as told, figuring it probably wasn't a very good idea to completely alienate one of Voldemort's top henchmen. He was too young - and much too pretty - to die just yet.

He was getting fed up with following people around, though.

They were barely out the door when Malfoy grabbed his arm. Harry started to pull away automatically when the world around him jolted and he found himself inside an enormous, empty room with a marble floor.

"What the hell was that?" Harry erupted, jerking out of Malfoy's hold. "You could have warned me! Or, I don't know, let me Apparate on my own!"

Malfoy's upper lip curled disdainfully. "This is Malfoy Manor, Potter. Only someone with Malfoy blood, or in contact with a Malfoy, can Apparate here."

Harry glared darkly at his best friend's father, longing to erase that superior look. On Draco, it was amusing. On Draco's father, it was irritating as hell.

"What about portkeys?" Harry asked warily.

Malfoy smirked. "Plotting your escape already, Potter? Portkeys are useless in conjunction with Malfoy Manor."

"Pride goeth before a really messy, gruesome death involving chainsaws, you know," Harry muttered, eying Malfoy's haughty face dourly.

"Follow me," Malfoy ordered, ignoring him.

"Would it kill you to say 'please'?"

Lucius sniffed and strode forward, towards the door. "Malfoys do not ask, they command."

"Yeah, so Draco keeps telling me."

Lucius' shoulders tensed - either with anger or offense - and he stopped walking abruptly, though he didn't turn around to face Harry.

"I wonder, Potter," he said softly, "how Draco would take it if he were to learn that the very person who turned him against the cause - and thus caused him to sign his own death warrant - is now prepared to grovel at the Dark Lord's feet."

"Well, you know what they say," Harry replied tightly after a moment. "Look out for number one, right?"

"Hardly a Gryffindor sentiment," Lucius commented, heading once more to the door. Harry trailed behind him, part of him already Occluding while the rest of him questioned his sanity.

The rest of their short journey passed in uncomfortable silence, until Lucius came to a stop outside an almost garishly ornate oak door in a dark hall lit with torches in iron brackets. Harry was pretty sure they were somewhere in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor; they'd certainly gone down enough steps.

"I thought Malfoys had good taste," he said snidely, nodding to the door and hoping he didn't look as nervous as he felt.

Malfoy glared at him. "The door and room within," he said curtly, "are the Dark Lord's creations."

"Yeah, well, he may be the most feared dark wizard of our time, but he's a crappy interior decorator."

Then the door slowly creaked open, seemingly of its own accord, and Harry shut up very quickly.

Malfoy prodded him in the back with the cane slightly harder than was strictly necessary, so Harry took a reluctant step forward, into the room. He had just enough time to see the tapestries covering the walls before the door shut behind him, leaving the chamber shrouded in darkness.

A tall, robed figure emerged from the shadows of the far end of the room, where Harry could barely make out the vague outline of a large throne-like chair. He took an unconscious step back as the figure continued to walk towards him, then berated himself for his cowardice and stood his ground.

"Harry Potter," the robed man murmured, halting a bare two feet away from him. "It has been some time since last we met."

Considering that the last time they'd met Harry had been a year old, that was something of an understatement.

"Er," Harry said, swallowing. "Hello." Now that Voldemort was so close, he could see the outline of the dark wizard's face. His eyes gleamed red in the darkness, and if Harry wasn't mistaken, the other man had very little in the way of either a nose or tan.

Voldemort was downright creepy.

"Tell me, Harry Potter," Voldemort said, staring him fixedly in the eye, "why would you ever agree to join me?"

Right. Now it was time to get down to business.

He was so going to die.

Steeling himself, Harry answered, "Revenge." And that was true enough - by joining Voldemort, he hoped to avenge himself and his parents by helping to bring about the monster's downfall.

"Revenge on whom? And for what reason?" Harry could feel the other wizard prod at his mental shields, and carefully let a few images and emotions - images of his life with the Dursleys, and the anger he still felt for Dumbledore for abandoning him with them - slip through his defenses.

"Revenge on Dumbledore," he said, hoping he sounded suitably blood-thirsty, "for leaving me with the muggles."

And here was where it would get tricky. His early life in many ways paralleled Voldemort's. That would either automatically predispose the Dark Lord towards Harry, or make him all the more suspicious.

Fortunately, Voldemort seemed satisfied by his answer. "Ah yes. Your mother's relations, I believe. They did not treat you kindly?"

"They treated me like dirt," Harry said honestly, his disgust unfeigned.

Harry got the distinct feeling that Voldemort was thus far pleased with everything he'd heard.

"And you will pledge your loyalty to me?" the Dark Lord demanded, leaning slightly closer to the younger man. Harry felt a muted flair of pain in his scar, and instinctively clapped a hand to his forehead, wincing.

Voldemort smiled thinly, though the expression was difficult to see in the duskiness of the large room. "Be glad you don't feel any more pain than that," he said smugly. "Were I not controlling our link, you would have been on your knees from the agony within seconds of entering this room."

"Gee, thanks," Harry muttered, then went rigid when he realized he'd been insolent to someone who could kill him without breaking a sweat.

Pain lanced through his head, building until he cried out and fell to all fours. His scar felt like it was on fire, and he distantly heard himself screaming.

And then it receded until all that was left was a dull headache and twinges of discomfort in his muscles.

Slowly, Harry climbed to his feet, trembling and weak.

"Do not think that your status as the Boy Who Lived makes you my equal," Voldemort said coldly, looking entirely unruffled. "You will join me as my servant, or you will die tonight, your body left outside of Hogwarts for Dumbledore to find."

Panting, Harry carefully considered his options even as he reinforced the barriers around his mind. He only let Voldemort sense his fear, his awe, and his anger.

He couldn't insist on being Voldemort's equal, as - despite evidence to the contrary - he didn't much care for dying. But neither could he be just another subordinate, not if he wanted to get truly valuable information for the Order. He had to impress Voldemort without challenging him.

"Of course," he finally settled for saying. "My Lord." The words felt bitter on his tongue. "I will not answer to Lucius Malfoy or any of your other followers, however. Only to you."

Voldemort remained silent for a few long seconds, and Harry began to worry that he'd gone too far again. Just as he was getting ready to make a break for it, the Dark Lord nodded.

"Very well. They will have no power over you, Harry." The way Voldemort said his name made his skin crawl - all amusement and ownership. "Now, return to your school. I will contact you when I have need of you. And Harry...show such impudence again, and I will not be so lenient."

Lenient? Making him scream his throat raw was lenient?

Harry left the room quickly, too worn out and in pain to care about preserving his dignity.

Malfoy looked suspiciously gleeful when he saw how pale Harry was, and how he trembled from remembered pain. Harry snarled wordlessly as the aristocratic man's lips curled upwards.

Then once again Malfoy grabbed his arm, and the world spun out of control.

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_The invention of the teenager was a mistake. Once you identify a period of life in which people get to stay out late but don't have to pay taxes - naturally, nobody wants to live any other way._

_-Judith Martin, a.k.a. Miss Manners_

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When Harry woke, it was nearing dawn. He was lying in the alley next to The Hog's Head, sprawled inelegantly over a pile of rotten garbage.

Slowly, he recalled everything that had happened. Malfoy must have Apparated him out here, then left him when he collapsed. Pleasant man. Really.

As for why he'd collapsed...well, most likely his body had just taken too much punishment to keep going. The shock of Apparation had probably been the last straw.

Groaning, Harry eased himself into a sitting position, wincing as his muscles spasmed at the movement. He slowly stretched out his limbs, wondering whether Apparating to the castle would just knock him out again.

Not that he really had much of a choice. There was no way he'd be able to walk all the way back to Hogwarts in his condition, and he certainly couldn't ask a villager for help without arousing suspicions.

He sighed and slowly stood, feeling like an old man with arthritis. This situation was uncomfortably familiar, and the memory Snape had unearthed in their last Occlumency lesson flashed through his mind.

He'd been so determined to learn, to become the best.

"Fat lot of good that did me," he growled. No matter what, there would always be someone more powerful than him, better than him, and it seemed like he'd be stuck as a punching bag for the rest of his life.

Well, at least he was a young and sexy punching bag.

Gathering his last reserves of courage and strength, Harry screwed his eyes shut, concentrated, and disappeared.

McGonagall, Snape, and Dumbledore were all staring at him when he opened his eyes.

"Hi," he said, then passed out once more.

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_All reports are in. Life is now officially unfair._

_-Anonymous_

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Severus, the youngest and swiftest of the professors present, was able to catch Potter before he hit the floor. The boy was dirty, as if he'd been rolling about on the ground, and much of his face was crusted with blood.

After lowering Potter gently to the floor and propping him up against a wall, Severus hurriedly searched through his robe's numerous inner pockets for the healing potion he'd had the foresight to concoct that afternoon. After pulling the stopper out of the vial and shoving it back into his pocket, he reached over, tilted Potter's head back, and pressed the vial to his lips. Some of the liquid streaked down the brat's chin, but most was swallowed.

Severus took the opportunity to cast a cleansing charm on the prone teenager, which dissipated the dirt and the dried blood. All that was left was a scab over the famous lightning bolt scar.

He quickly murmured a diagnostic spell, and relaxed when the results showed that other than bruises, strained muscles, and the reopening of his scar, Potter was in good health. He'd hurt like Hades for a while, but there was no permanent damage.

"Will he be all right?" Minerva demanded, staring wide-eyed from the doorway.

Severus stood and put the vial back in his robes, then looked Potter over critically. The boy was unconscious, but he was breathing easily and seemed more exhausted than hurt. Severus nodded sharply. "The draught I gave him was extremely powerful. Even if he had been near death, it would have restored him."

Minerva and Albus both sighed in relief.

"It seems likely he managed to fool the Dark Lord," Severus added with a certain amount of grudging respect. He knew from personal experience that doing so wasn't exactly easy.

"So it would seem," Albus agreed without enthusiasm. The man's demeanor was bereft of cheer as he watched the unconscious Gryffindor guiltily.

"What on earth are you talking about?" Minerva asked sharply. "Potter has obviously been harmed!"

"If Harry's true loyalties had been discovered, he would be dead," Albus said wearily. "I had hoped he would return uninjured, but it is hardly surprising that Voldemort saw fit to punish him."

"You expected this to happen?" Minerva demanded, horrified.

"Enough," Severus said sharply. "We should get Potter back to his dormitory before his housemates awaken."

"Don't be ridiculous, Severus," Minerva said scathingly. "Clearly, he needs to be taken to the hospital wing."

"I'm afraid that's impossible, Minerva. Mister Potter will be watched carefully by many of his peers with Death Eater parents, and no one can be allowed to suspect he is anything less than loyal to Voldemort. We cannot let on that we know he has been away from the castle."

"We can hardly sneak him into his own common room," Minerva argued unhappily.

"Whyever not?" Albus asked with the barest hint of a smile. "We do have an invisibility cloak on hand, after all. Severus, if you would be so kind..."

Severus stared at his employer in disbelief. "You cannot seriously expect me to willingly enter Gryffindor tower, Albus."

"Oh, buck up," Minerva said irritably, not at all happy that one of her students was receiving less than stellar care. "What's the worst that could happen?"

"The ostentatious Gryffindor colors could blind me," Severus retorted snidely.

"And what a tragedy that would be," Minerva snorted. "We'd no longer have to listen to you complaining about having to see the 'idiotic dunderheaded halfwits that pass - or more often, fail - as students' every day."

Severus was about to make a suitably scathing remark concerning the less than pleasant sight of the aging woman's face when Albus pointedly cleared his throat and pasted on his best 'I have lived fifteen decades and am wiser than you can hope to become in twice as long, my dear child' expression.

"We have little time to spare," he reminded them calmly. "Severus, return Harry to Gryffindor; use the cloak there - yes, it's an invisibility cloak, Harry's. Gryffindor Tower will not harm you. In fact, a change of environment will do you good."

Severus briefly considered reminding the Headmaster that he wasn't exactly taking a vacation to Gryffindor territory and wouldn't be there long enough for the 'change in environment' to affect him, but decided he'd rather not give the older man any funny ideas. So, for the hundredth time since coming to work at Hogwarts, the Slytherin settled for contemplating the day when he could retire and hex both Headmaster and colleagues without risking his salary.

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Review Responses, yo

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**fhippogriff - **I honestly can't see Invictus!Harry being friends with Invictus!Ron or Invictus!Hermione. The animosity might die down eventually, but they probably won't be buddies.

**The Slice - **I'm trying to figure out who Harry would get with in the slash version. The top three choices are Snape, Draco, or Neville. Sorry, but I didn't keep the undertones in; you'll just have to read chapter 14 with a slasher's eye. I'm sure that will be no great difficulty for you. Grins. As for my statue? Forget the marshmallows, I want toffee and caramel. And yay! Nekkid rituals!

**critic unknown - **Ah, yes, the twins. Definitely two of the best characters in the books. I am writing the story primarily for myself, yes, but I do listen to everyone's input (as long as said input is not along the lines of 'OMG u suck HHr 4evar, Ginnny is a hoe!11'). I may well make the slash version of Invictus HarryNeville, though that isn't a pairing I've ever really been interested in before.

**Eaiva le Fay - **Meh. I really haven't given too much thought to the Headmaster's fate, though the visuals I get from him transforming back while inside the snake are just gross. As for Leander, I assume he said nothing about the vamps because he didn't want to let Harry down. People in lurve do funny things. And have I mentioned how much I adore long reviews? Because I do.

**Georgentosser - **McGonagall is probably my favorite teacher. Snape used to be, but the McGonagall in OotP won me over. The amulet has a large part to play, but if you want to know more, you'll have to beg Nim. As for the daggers...well, they'll eventually show up again. Me, eccentric? Surely you jest. And I don't know why I put the quotes in. I just really like quotes, and I figured, 'what the hell, why not'. I do things on a 'what the hell, why not' basis quite often with Invictus.

**Wren Truesong - **Thank you! -Grins happily.- Hope you're a bit less frustrated these days. And any long rev...'order form'...will do; doesn't matter if it's up to your usual standards, as long as it flatters me outrageously. Glad you liked the chess scene.

Thanks also to:** _MURDRAX,_ japanese-jew, HaRrYrOxMuhSoX, IndiaInk, samuraiduck27, Broken Outcast, HeWhoComesWithTheDawn, Danaan, Larna Mandrea, Dernhelm-caorann, GaLlOpInGaRgOyLeS, SaphirePhoenix, ivan the terrable, r h 4 ever, checkmarks, Born to Fire, Monaki-cheung, watiki, Quillian, Night-Owl123, kaiserzacc, C.F.Evangel, E.A.V., Hazel Maraa, athenakitty, Amaris Kincaid, RebelHanyouofDarkness, padfoot, NoAlias, azntgr01, smidge, Ezmerelda, catchmeifyacan, A-man, Lil Ole Me 97, Tide of Insurrection, PhoenixFlight72, magicalbrat, D3, black blade, Windy River, neferseba, to be left outside alone, HPfreakout, MysterioX, Musings-of-Apathy, tenshi noyo Ryu Taiga, Dobbey, UnSerious Sirius, Randomised, Kalorna Enera, Never Odd or eveN, kobe23, BDD, Curtis Zidane Ziraa, Dr Gero, Draco's Wife Lover, Flamegirl22, bobmcbobbob1, ROSSIGNOL, GreyGranian, DaughterofDeath, Silly Penguin, Letishia, SensiblyTainted, shazia)Riavera, The Lady Reaper of the Shadows, RavenEcho, HecateDeMort, unperfectwolf, .(), dumbluck, redhot chick, x Red Rose x, Nightfallshadow, Kathleen, kirallie, MikoHuntress, harry'sgirl13, clexy clexeness, Shattered Diamond, WeasleyTwinsLover1112, Madame Sinister, hazelle, jump-ball-girl, Luisa, MaisjetadoreSiriusNoir, AKA Hummer, LadyRomulus, Lilrebelgirl, Hermy10, HERMIONIE102, sephylover608, Legit, dj-cam, Shinigami Clara, Ashlee V, xiann, Dark Topaz, Lady of Faerie, meradith-elle, mARVINiSmYiDOL, swdrone, sirius009, Mariann, moonypadfoot, Luna Mae, **and **Nimbirosa. **My sincerest apologies if I left anyone out.


	15. Chapter Fourteen: Yet Another Chapter

Disclaimer: HP isn't mine.

**_IMPORTANT:_** **Bad news, I suppose. I've pretty much lost all interest in writing Invictus. It used to be fun; now it's dreary, and bordering on painful. I'm not enjoying it, and the quality of my work is decreasing at a rapid pace.**

**I might get a burst of inspiration someday soon and finish the next chapter, but as of now, Invictus is on hiatus.**

**Sorry, folks. Feel free to flame if you disapprove; I know it'd piss me off if an author gave up like this. Unfortunately, I just can't continue. What's the point in writing if you can't have fun?**

**Eternal thanks to M'cha Araem and Nimbirosa for seeing this through as far as they have.**

**And to everyone who has read this and reviewed: Thank you. I love you (except the 'u r so gay' person, and the 'omigod you sux HHr 4evah' person) all. And finally: please don't kill me, please, I beg you, arghargharghargh, noooooo, glurgh figgle.**

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**Chapter Fourteen: Yet Another Chapter**

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_Always remember that there are certain people who set their watches by your clock._

_-Anonymous_

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Harry groaned. His head ached dully, and muted pain throbbed through his entire body. His throat felt scratchy, his tongue seemed to be twice the size it normally was, and his eyes were uncomfortably unfocused when he opened them.

In short, he felt like shit.

"Wassat?" he mumbled blearily into his pillow as someone shook his shoulder. He bit back a groan and instead snarled an incoherent, "G'way."

"Harry, wake up! You'll be late for Defense!"

"Don' care," Harry replied, his voice muffled but slightly less unintelligible.

"Maybe you don't, but Umbridge will," Neville said, sounding quite frightened. "You've already got a month of detention with her, Harry - starting tonight. Do you really want to have another week or two with her?"

Yet again, Harry wished he hadn't made Leander promise not to harm Umbridge. What had Chance once told him, that time she'd had to forcibly remove the drunk witch from the Lock and Lantern? 'Violence may not be the best answer, but it'll do in a pinch.'

Grumbling, Harry turned over and sat up, stifling a moan of discomfort at the movement. He rubbed sleepily at his eyes, trying to wake himself up fully. "What?" he demanded grumpily, seeing Neville hide a smile.

The other boy flushed guiltily. "Nothing. You just look...young, when you do that."

"Do not."

"Do too," Neville insisted earnestly.

"Not."

"Yes, you do."

"Not."

"I'm not getting in an argument about this," the other boy said with an unexpected and uncharacteristic glare of exasperation. "Please, just get up or we'll both be late."

While Harry may have been willing to risk Umbridge's anger, he certainly wasn't about to put Neville in the way of the toad-woman's wrath. The shy boy would probably crumple like a Snorkack's horn, and Harry had a bad habit of wanting to protect those who couldn't defend themselves.

Sighing in an overly put-on way, Harry decided to humor the other boy. Just this once.

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_I hadn't smoked in ten or twelve years, but I wished then I'd had a cigarette that I could have taken a final drag on and flipped still burning into the river as I turned and walked away. Not smoking gains in the area of lung cancer, but it loses badly in the realm of dramatic gestures._

_-Robert Parker_

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If Harry was in a foul mood and state of mind, then Umbridge was in her element. She watched him beadily throughout the entire lesson, and whenever he winced at the pain lingering in his limbs, she asked him sweetly if there was anything wrong that he'd like to share with the class. Of course, due to this, _everyone_ was soon watching him instead of paying attention to the lesson.

Which, true to form, Umbridge blamed on him.

"Detention, Mister Potter, for disrupting the class," she announced, sickeningly saccharine as always. Harry, who for once actually hadn't done anything, glared venomously at her, wishing he could strike back without major consequences of the expelling kind.

The worst came when everything finally caught up with him and he dozed off in the middle of yet another lecture on wand care. Apparently, according to Umbridge and the Ministry, a clean wand was the sure way to survive a horde of murderous bigots led by a madman.

He was spiraling through a haze of odd half-dreams, not quite asleep but no longer truly awake, when something snapped down on his desk very close to his slumbering head and a loud "hem hem!" sounded close to his ear.

He jerked upright, his heart practically trying to beat its way out of his chest. For a long, terrible moment, he thought he was back with Voldemort and Malfoy. Then he heard the snickering of some of his less charitable classmates, and saw Umbridge's face hovering a few inches from his, her pudgy hand flat on his desk.

Though her face wasn't pleasant by any means, it was a good sight less horrible than being anywhere near Voldemort, so he breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

Umbridge, however, hadn't gotten the memo that she was supposed to be the lesser evil. "Tell me, Mister Potter," she said softly, her protuberant eyes gleaming with malice, "are you so foolish as to think you can survive without proper defense training while You-Know-Who is on the loose?"

Harry was just enough out-of-sorts to forget discretion. "Well, gee," he said sarcastically, inserting as much innuendo into his words as possible, "you're so very right. I really should practice 'polishing my wand', as it's clearly the way to destroy Voldemort. And so very pleasant for me as well."

The other students gaped at him in disbelief, though there was a bit of muffled laughter that quickly died down when faced with Umbridge's fierce glare. Harry wondered if anyone had ever told her she looked like she had bowel problems when she was angry.

"Detention, Mister Potter, for yet another week," she said, furious but keeping surprisingly good control of herself. "Your lack of respect for your elders and betters is appalling."

"So is everything about you, but I'm not complaining," Harry said lazily, figuring that if he was going to go down, he might as well do so with a bang.

Umbridge went red with rage. "Out! Get out right now, Potter! You can be sure the Minister and the Headmaster will hear of this!"

Harry didn't say another word, but silently gathered his belongings, stuffed them into his book bag, and left with his back straight and his head held high.

Once he was outside the door, he burst into hysterical laughter.

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_He makes no friend who never made a foe._

_-Alfred, Lord Tennyson_

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He had Transfigurations after lunch. He kept waiting for McGonagall to take him to task for his distraction, but she seemed surprisingly understanding about his sleepiness and inability to concentrate.

Harry half-expected Ron Weasley to mutter a disparaging remark about teacher's pets, but the Weasley boy surprised him by nodding neutrally to him during class.

"You impressed him with Umbridge," explained Dean, who had announced that his small rebellion was 'very cool'. "No one in Gryffindor can stand her. The only ones who can are some of the Slytherins. Even the Ravenclaws hate her, mostly because she doesn't teach anything useful."

"People actually care about that?" Harry asked in surprise, after deciding privately that maybe Neville was right about Ron not being so terrible after all. Anyone who disliked Umbridge couldn't be _that _bad. "You'd think everyone would be happy about having an easy course."

"Yeah, we were at first," Neville said quietly as he tried to conjure an iron shield out of thin air. "But then the Ministry announced that You-Know-Who is back. We need to know how to take care of ourselves, and all Umbridge teaches us is theory and how to polish our...er, clean our wands."

Harry didn't do very well with the material they were covering, despite the fact that due to his private lessons, he was really quite a bit further along than his classmates. He only produced a working shield once, while even Neville managed to do so three times before class was over. No one mentioned his less than stellar performance, though, not even Granger, because they all figured he was nervous about his first detention with Umbridge that night. Especially considering how he'd just acted up in her class...

McGonagall held him back as everyone else left. Once his classmates were gone, she closed the door, then turned to him.

"How are you holding up, Harry?" she asked quietly. He'd gotten used to how, in private, she referred to him by his given name rather than 'Mister Potter'. She wouldn't show favoritism in front of the other students, or even most of her fellow staff members, but in private she softened towards him considerably.

"Not so good," he admitted reluctantly. "I kind of lost control with Umbridge today."

It was a sign of McGonagall's utter contempt for her colleague that she didn't correct him with a pointed, "_Professor_ Umbridge."

"Another week of detention?"

He nodded and sighed. "Merlin, I hate that woman," he muttered.

McGonagall smiled sympathetically. "You aren't the only one," she said dryly. "Now, before you leave, I have a message for you from Professor Snape. He wants you to use the time-turner to come to your special lessons. He said, I quote, that 'if the brat expects to be let off because he somehow managed to survive last night, then he's sorely mistaken'."

Harry rolled his eyes, and McGonagall's lips twitched. "I never would have imagined it," she said contemplatively, "but I'd say he almost likes you. At the very least, he doesn't hate you near as much as he does the rest of Gryffindor."

Harry eyed her disbelievingly. "You've got to be kidding. Snape enjoys seeing me in pain."

"_Professor_ Snape is not quite as sadistic as he would have the world think."

Harry just looked at her skeptically.

"Oh, go on," she said, glaring at him over the tops of her spectacles. "Run along; I'm sure your friends are missing you."

Harry looked at her mournfully. "Tired of me already, Professor? But I thought our love was meant to be!"

She snorted. "Out, Potter."

Sent away for the second time that day, he slumped his shoulders and slunk away, pouting.

"Incorrigible," he heard his teacher murmur before the door closed behind him.

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_All the world's a stage and most of us are desperately unrehearsed._

_-Sean O'Casey_

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The rest of the day was nearly as bad as its beginning. Neville, of course, had to ask where he'd been the night before loudly enough that Draco overheard. The Malfoy heir took this to mean that Harry had been off snogging someone in a broom cupboard, which Harry decided was a good enough cover story to go along with.

He protested weakly, which was enough (as he'd suspected) to confirm Draco's theory in the minds of everyone who'd heard the exchange.

Draco was ecstatic. "You definitely need a little tension release, you've been an absolute monster recently. ...It's not Weasley, is it?" It was amusing how the Slytherin could go from happy to horrified in a matter of seconds.

By dinner, everyone knew that Harry had a secret lover. Halfway through dinner, bets were being made as to who it was. Ginny had been ruled out, as she'd been heard to say, "Thank Merlin. Maybe now he'll stop bothering me," once she'd gotten the news. At the moment, Luna was top choice, as she was the only female his age Harry spent considerable time with.

Ron also softened towards Harry considerably, and the two of them actually had a halfway civil conversation about Quidditch over their shepherd's pie. Granger just sniffed and said something about impropriety, while Dean congratulated him loudly on his anonymous conquest. Theo looked rather sullen, as he had something of a crush on the top choice for the girl who, according to gossip, Harry was shagging passionately every night for hours on end.

Neville was the only one who seemed to suspect he'd been gone for any other reason. Once they were alone, walking around the lake after dinner, Neville said, "You weren't really off with a girl, were you."

"What makes you say that?" Harry asked uncomfortably.

"You were in a really foul mood this morning," Neville said with a shrug. "If you were off snogging someone last night, you probably would have been less...grouchy. And you looked sort of relieved when Draco asked if you'd been out with someone, like you needed a good cover story."

Harry glanced sideways at his friend, surprised that Neville was able to read his emotions so easily. But then, Neville was rather more perceptive than most people.

He worried his lower lip between his teeth, wondering exactly what to say. He didn't dare tell Neville the truth; he didn't want to endanger his friend or himself.

But he could tell _a_ truth. "I have lessons," he murmured quietly, even though there was no one else around to overhear. "With the teachers, that is. They think that Voldemort-" Neville paled and squeaked, "-might come after me."

The other boy was wide-eyed and slack-jawed. "You...? Of course, you're the Boy Who Lived, but..."

"I understand," Harry said carefully, "if you don't want to be around me, or something-"

Neville shook his head hastily. "No! I mean, I'm just worried. About you, not about me."

Harry smiled, secretly more relieved than he'd care to admit that Neville wasn't going to abandon him. "Thanks."

Neville shrugged, blushing. Then, still looking embarrassed, he asked, "Ah, don't you have detention in a few minutes?"

Harry glanced down at his watch and cursed. "I'll see you later," he promised, then took off for the castle at a run.

He arrived at the Defense classroom a minute late. Umbridge, of course, used this as an excuse to keep him an extra hour.

She pointed to a desk, where he slumped and glared at her sullenly.

"Take out some parchment and a quill," she ordered. He did so as slowly as he could, just to get on her nerves.

"You are to write five hundred lines-"

"Five hundred!" Harry cried, brow furrowed.

"Five hundred," she affirmed with a chilly smile. "You will write, 'I must show respect'. Detention will end when you are finished."

She kept a careful eye on him, as if gauging his reaction to this punishment. While he thought the number of lines excessive, the detention wasn't as bad as it could have been, and he didn't complain further.

She let him go after he'd written six hundred lines - apparently, his lack of grumbling meant he needed more of a punishment. Harry stalked away, then ducked into an alcove not far from the Defense classroom and fished out his time turner. After a few quick mental calculations, he decided to go back four hours to when he had been walking outside with Neville.

Holding his breath, he turned the small hourglass four times, and was a little disappointed that nothing seemed to have changed dramatically, that reality itself hadn't rippled around him.

Though he found it a little difficult to believe he'd actually gone back in time, he swallowed his doubts and set off for Snape's office, hoping the Professor wouldn't be in too bad a mood. Fortunately, there weren't many people in the halls, so it wasn't likely that anyone would realize he had been in two places at the same time.

His hopes, as always when Snape was concerned, were in vain. The moment he entered the office and closed the door behind him, he was hit with an unusually strong Legilimens that had him on his knees in seconds.

He had no time to arrange his defenses, and his concentration was shot to hell from his meeting with Voldemort and his detention with Umbridge. Snape easily ransacked his mind, flipping idly through his memories as if perusing a particularly dull book. Harry gritted his teeth and tried time and again to eject the Professor from his mind, but failed over and over.

Surprisingly enough, when the attack ended, Snape didn't verbally dissect him or list the ways Voldemort would kill him after learning his true loyalties. He eyed Harry disdainfully, his upper lip curled in a way that was somehow far more offensive than any spoken insult.

"You are to tell me exactly what happened last night," Snape ordered coldly. "I will then pass your report on to the Headmaster."

Harry swallowed, then quietly recounted the events of the previous evening as exactly as he could. Snape asked a few questions, and by the end of Harry's account, seemed more thoughtful than contemptuous.

"The extent of the Dark Lord's control over your link is troubling," he said slowly. "Everything else, however, was to be expected."

"Including his idea of a proper punishment?" Harry asked with a slight sneer.

"Quite."

"And no one thought to warn me?" he asked, angrily.

Snape scowled. "You are not _completely _lacking in intelligence, Potter. You must have expected something similar."

Harry just shrugged, his slow-built trust in the professors starting to waver. If they'd sent him out, knowing he'd face torture...

"If it makes you feel better," Snape added, his lips twisted as if he tasted something vile, "Professor McGonagall was outraged on your behalf, and Headmaster Dumbledore was less than pleased at your condition."

It did make him feel better, surprisingly. Dumbledore did what he had to do, and Harry _had_ been given a choice.

"I suppose seeing me like that made your year," Harry muttered, refusing to give an inch.

Snape said nothing, but there was a darkening of his eyes that reminded Harry of McGonagall's earlier words.

"Return tomorrow at the same time," Snape finally said.

Harry blinked. "That's it?" he asked, startled. Normally, Snape attacked him with the Legilimens Curse until he was practically begging the older man for mercy.

"Are you questioning me, Potter?" Snape asked, his voice deadly soft.

Harry shook his head, both in answer to Snape's question and out of exasperation. "No, sir," he said. "But thanks."

He left before his teacher could answer.

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_But you do the job that's in front of you, or people die._

_-Terry Pratchett_

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Though Harry figured he should probably head back to Gryffindor and get some quality sleep in, he made his way to Leander's room instead.

The vampire looked mildly surprised to see him, but let him in without a word.

"So how're things with the rogue vampires going?" Harry asked, a little coldly.

Leander shrugged, his gaze as guarded as Harry's tone. "As well as can be expected. Several have been killed. More have returned to our side. There are still at least three hundred with Voldemort."

Harry opened his mouth to say something cutting, then shook his head and sighed. He couldn't hold on to his anger any longer. He was too tired, too emotionally worn.

"Why would they even work for him?" he settled for asking, sounding a little petulant. "I mean, they must know he's a bloodthirsty homocidal maniac even on his good days."

Leander smiled sharply. "Vampires are bloodthirsty and homocidal, Harry. And with him, they believe they will gain respect, freedom from wizards, and as much Muggle and Muggleborn blood as they can drink."

"This sucks," Harry summed up, not just referring to the situation with the vampires. "I mean, sure I've made a few new friends, and gotten closer to the people I was already friendly with, but I hate having to follow the rules."

"Then why do you?" Leander asked, his reasonable tone at odds with his question.

"Because I'm afraid what will happen if I don't," Harry admitted, not quite meeting his old friend's eyes. "I...if Voldemort succeeds, then people I care about will die. I was only going along with all this, at first, for myself. But now it actually matters. I don't want my friends to die because I did something stupid."

Leander snorted. "You're sounding more and more like the hero you say you aren't, Harry. You can't save anyone, and your 'friends' should learn to fight for themselves rather than rely on you."

Harry shook his head. "That's the thing - they don't rely on me. I mean, there's no reason for them to think I'll do anything against Voldemort. And how are they supposed to fight for themselves when we have a Defense teacher like Umbridge?"

"Don't shoulder burdens that aren't yours to bear," Leander warned, eyes narrowed. "Saving the world isn't your responsibility or your duty."

"Maybe not," Harry said. "True, I didn't ask for any of this. But what else can I do?"

Leander sighed. "I don't like this, Harry. This isn't your war."

"That doesn't mean I can run from what's happening. I'm the only one who can end this, Leander. How can I live with myself if I leave now? I have to try." As he said it, he realized his words were true, and what he'd been needing to hear. Doubts crystallized into certainties, and he felt a new surge of determination fill him. "I need to do this."

"Even if it kills you?" Leander demanded, clearly not at all pleased.

Harry shrugged tiredly. "Maybe. But as I told Dumbledore, I don't intend to die."

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_The most common way people give up their power is by thinking they don't have any._

_-Alice Walker_

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Green was complaining of cabin fever the next day, so Harry took the snake with him to his second detention with Hogwarts' resident Queen Amphibian. He figured if things got bad, he could at least use his familiar to give his professor a scare. As it was, though, he thought it best that the snake stay out of sight unless needed, and so had his pet wrap himself around his arm under his robe.

Umbridge had him sit down at the same desk and pull out his parchment, but stopped him as he started to write the lines.

"Use this," she ordered, handing him a black, spiky quill. Harry eyed her oddly, nervously noting the eager shine in her eyes and the gloating smile on her lips, but did as told. The woman just got stranger and stranger each day.

He moved to dip the new quill in his inkwell, but once again, she stopped him. "It doesn't need ink," she said, watching him with a kind of greedy anticipation.

What, so she was trying to make things easier for him? This entire situation seemed entirely too suspicious, and Harry felt in the pit of his stomach that things were about to get hairy.

Deciding that the quill could hardly hurt him, he started to write.

After one line, he noticed an irritating stinging on the back of his hand. He glanced at it, and saw, "I must show respect" cut into his skin. Feeling rather ill, he looked at his parchment and noticed that the ink was a familiar red.

Umbridge smiled. "Five hundred lines, Mister Potter."

"You've got to be joking," Harry said, staring at her in disbelief. He'd known she was a sadistic bitch, but this was beyond anything he'd expected.

"Five hundred lines. Continue to argue and it will be six hundred."

He stared at her for a short eternity, overwhelmed by a rush of absolute hatred that made his hand twitch towards his wand. Somehow, though, Harry managed to gain control of himself, letting the anger simmer but not break loose. He couldn't lose his head. If he played this right...

Never taking his eyes off the professor, Harry picked up the quill again, then very deliberately broke it in half. "Oops," he said insincerely.

Umbridge looked briefly shocked, before she snatched up her abnormally short wand and repaired the small instrument of torture.

"Huh. I seem to be oddly clumsy today," he said with obviously contrived contrition as he snapped the quill in half a second time.

Umbridge had gone a rather unpleasant shade of puce. "You'll be here until you write those lines, Potter," she hissed, before repairing the quill again. Harry bit back an obscenity. Instead, for the third time in as many minutes, he set to destroying the quill.

"I can keep this up all night," he said coolly, the quill now in four pieces on his desk. "And when someone comes to see what's taking so long...well, I'm _sure_ Dumbledore will be really sympathetic to your plight. He does so enjoy knowing the students under his care are being physically abused, after all."

Apparently that was as much insolence as Umbridge could take. She struggled to her feet and lumbered over to Harry's desk, looming over him like a midget Godzilla ready to go on a rampage.

Harry tensed, ready to defend himself from attack, when Green slithered along his arm out the end of his sleeve. The snake, sensing Harry's discomfort and tasting the scent of his master's blood, hissed loudly at Umbridge. The toad-woman cried out in alarm and took half a step back.

"This is my familiar, Green," Harry said, amused by and grateful to his scaley friend. "He's got a taste for toads, you know."

"You - you-" Umbridge sputtered, going a bright, angry red.

"Now, I'll just be on my way," Harry cut her off smoothly, standing up and holding the pieces of the quill tightly in one hand. "And I suggest that from now on, you do exactly what I say, or the Headmaster will hear about this."

"You think you can blackmail me, Potter?" Umbridge demanded furiously.

"I know I can. After all, I've got evidence, and all it takes is a simple spell to determine who the quill belongs to," Harry said with a one-sided shrug. "And I'm sure there are other students you've used this quill on who will come forward if it means your forced retirement."

Feeling decidedly smug, Harry shouldered his bag, then turned and headed for the door. He was only halfway there, though, when some instinct made him draw his wand and hastily conjure a shield between him and his teacher - a solid iron wall, and very sturdy. It made a startling 'whump' sound when hit with whatever curse Umbridge had cast.

He turned quickly, still keeping the iron shield up. He noted in a corner of his mind that it was the best one he'd made yet, though most of his brain was working out how to get out of this situation alive and with the upper hand.

Umbridge's wand was still brandished, and he could practically see the words of the most painful Unforgivable forming on her thick lips.

"You going to Crucio me right under Dumbledore's crooked and abnormally long nose?" Harry asked, praying his shield would hold up for just a bit longer. This was the longest he'd been able to keep one materialized, and if it dissipated before Umbridge came back to her senses...

Umbridge hesitated, no doubt pondering the consequences of casting an Unforgivable at Hogwarts, especially an Unforgivable on the Wizarding World's favorite adolescent.

Harry took advantage of her momentary distraction and pivoted, dashing for the door. She shouted, "Colloportus!" but not quite in time; Harry was out the door and still running.

He headed for Leander's rooms, panting out a more traditional shielding spell as he ran, one that centered around the caster. He didn't dare hope any longer that Umbridge would allow herself to be blackmailed; it was far more likely that she'd plot a way to get him back, to discredit him, than play his game.

Leander looked up in surprise when Harry burst into his room. His nostrils twitched as he smelled the blood lingering on Harry's rapidly healing hand and the tip of the broken quill, and his lips tightened in fury as he recognized the blood as Harry's.

"What happened?" he demanded, his voice oddly calm and controlled.

"Umbridge," Harry gasped, out of breath. Good thing he'd quit smoking a while ago, or he'd never have made the run from Umbridge's room to Leander's without collapsing and hacking up half a lung. "Look, I need you to find her and keep her cooped up somewhere."

"Oh?" There was an alarmingly eager edge to his old friend's tone, one which Harry took to mean imminent bloodshed.

"Don't hurt her," he ordered, his mind racing. "It'll destroy our case against her, and might get you kicked out of Hogwarts."

"If she did anything to you, I'll do more than hurt her," Leander snarled, his earlier calm facade cracking into a thousand pieces.

"Leander," Harry snapped, "we're going to get her, but we'll do it my way. Don't hurt her, but stop her from going anywhere. Please."

He didn't wait for the vampire to argue, but sped out of the room and headed at a jog for McGonagall's office.

By the time he got there, he was completely out of breath. At least Hogwarts itself hadn't stalled him by making the staircases change mid-direction or by having corridors disappear.

It seemed Harry's luck was for once holding true, as McGonagall was grading papers in her office when he arrived.

She blinked, looking at him in surprise - it wasn't often students (other than Hermione Granger and some of the more dedicated Ravenclaws) sought her out after classes were over.

"Aren't you supposed to be in detention, Mister Potter?" she asked, unable to approve of skipping a punishment, even if it was with Umbridge.

"I was," Harry said grimly, striding to her desk and tossing the quill pieces down in front of her. "But there were a few complications..."

He filled her in quickly, watching in satisfaction as the Head of Gryffindor went pale with disbelief and rage. She was actually shaking with anger by the time he was done.

"I sent Leander to keep her from going anywhere outside the school - I figured she might try to bribe whoever sold her the quill into keeping silent, or that she might try to contact anyone else she's used the quill on and intimidate them out of backing me up."

"Good thinking, Potter," McGonagall approved tightly. "Fifty points to Gryffindor. Now come with me."

She gathered up the bits of quill, and set off at a brisk pace for the dungeons. Harry, bemused, watched as she pounded on Professor Snape's closed door. There was a pause, and Harry thought for a second that he heard Snape snarl, "Hide!" Then the door opened, revealing an irritated Slytherin and a seemingly empty office.

Snape looked fleetingly disconcerted at the sight of them, then returned to his default expression of sneering superiority. "To what do I owe the dubious pleasure of your visit?"

McGonagall showed him the quill, then explained brusquely everything that had happened that night. Snape's eyes narrowed and his lips compressed into an even thinner line than normal. Harry spent the intervening minutes trying to peer around his teachers and see if anyone was hiding in Snape's office.

"I'm bringing Mister Potter to the Headmaster's office," McGonagall said, drawing Harry's attention back to the conversation. "I suggest you go see if any of your Slytherins were subjected to Umbridge's idea of discipline, and notify the other Heads of House so they can do the same. I would also ask that you send someone to see if any other of my Gryffindors were harmed in any way during her detentions. Anyone found who can corroborate Mister Potter's story should be sent to the Headmaster's office."

"I shall see to it immediately," Snape agreed, surprising Harry by seeming as irate as McGonagall. Harry figured he was probably angry because he'd been beaten out of his Cruelest Teacher of the Year award for the first time in over a decade.

His legs were really starting to ache by the time he was in Dumbledore's office, explaining yet again everything that had happened that night - though, as with McGonagall, he left out his failed attempt at blackmailing his professor. For some reason, he didn't think Dumbledore would approve.

The Headmaster listened quietly to his story, occasionally interrupting with a question or two. The old man grew more and more solemn with each passing minute. He was stiff-faced and dark-eyed by the end of the tale, and Harry got the feeling that if Voldemort showed up at that moment, Dumbledore would have no trouble blasting him into itsy-bitsy bite-sized pieces of Dark Lordliness.

It was kind of unnerving, especially as...well, "You've got a lemon drop in your moustache," Harry announced, unable to keep his silence on the matter any longer.

Dumbledore's expression looked a little less ominous and a little more sheepish as he plucked the candy out and popped it in his mouth. Harry's lips twitched.

McGonagall snorted softly, and Harry was certain he heard her mutter a disparaging remark about males and timing. He opened his mouth for a suitably scandalous response when the door opened and a few students trooped in, followed by three wrathful Heads of House. Even cheerful Flitwick looked cross, and Sprout appeared to be downright vexed.

Harry had to restrain several murderous impulses when he saw Luna was one of the students present.

"I should've let Leander kill her," he snarled under his breath. McGonagall placed a calming hand on his shoulder.

"You did the right thing, Harry," she said quietly, too quietly for anyone but him to hear. "And I assure you, she will be punished."

Dumbledore conjured a few more chairs, then had each of the six new students explain what Umbridge had done to them, and why. All of them had used the quill; only one of them, a sullen-looking Slytherin whose uncle was a werewolf, had been forced to use the quill more than two or three times. He reluctantly let everyone look at his hand, which bore a very faint scar saying, "I must not defend Half-Breeds."

Luna was the only Ravenclaw present, and she had been given detention with the quill after loudly defending The Quibbler after Umbridge insulted it and said it was full of lies and inaccuracies. Two Hufflepuffs had accidentally set the Defense professor's desk on fire the year before, and had each received one detention with the quill. Then there were two Gryffindors who had been caught rigging Umbridge's office with Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes products.

Dumbledore thanked each of the students for their testimonies, then sent them back to their dormitories. He asked them to stay up until after curfew, and wait for the students that the Heads of House hadn't found in their common rooms to arrive. "Ask them discreetly if they have any evidence of wrongdoing by Madam Umbridge," he ordered. "If so, have them contact me as soon as possible. Professor McGonagall, please fetch Madam Umbridge here at once."

He asked Harry to remain behind with the three other Professors, then went to his Floo and called for Amelia Bones at the Ministry.

After a short discussion - apparently Bones had been packing up to go home when Dumbledore called - Amelia agreed to round up a few Aurors and then come to Hogwarts to apprehend Umbridge.

"It seems Madam Umbridge only used the quill in question occasionally," Dumbledore murmured once he'd returned to his seat to await both Umbridge and Bones. "And the quill is apparently her only form of corporal punishment. This will help her case. But we do have enough evidence now to remove her from the Defense post, and likely even her position as Minister Fudge's undersecretary."

"That's it?" Harry asked incredulously. "In the Muggle world, she'd be tossed in prison in seconds."

Snape snorted. "Hardly. Dolores Umbridge has many friends in high places, and those with good connections - whether Muggle or Wizard - have little to fear from the legal system."

Harry wasn't stupid enough to complain about that not being fair.

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

_Before you set out for revenge, be sure to dig two graves._

_-Chinese proverb_

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Albus was an understanding man, and kind when he could afford compassion. At the moment, however, he was fighting an overwhelming urge to severely harm Dolores Umbridge. He hoped he would be able to maintain his usual control when Minerva returned with the errant professor.

More than that, however, he was mystified by young Harry's behavior. Little more than a month earlier, the boy had dueled an Auror with almost no provocation. But now, when not even Severus could have truly blamed the boy for losing control, Harry was doing everything exactly right.

"Harry," he said slowly, staring the young man straight in the eyes, "I must admit to some surprise at your actions tonight."

The youth squirmed a little in his seat, clearly uncomfortable with the subject. "What d'you mean?" he asked awkwardly.

"Instead of confronting Professor Umbridge on your own, you took your problem to an adult, and you used caution and wisdom in your dealings with both Leander and Professor Umbridge herself."

Harry coughed, a little shamefaced. "Er...well, I might have, ah, well...going to Professor McGonagall was my second option," he said, staring down at his feet.

"Oh?"

"I thought maybe...well, if I had something hanging over her head...she might behave better?"

Filius and Pomona looked mildly horrified. Severus smirked. Albus fought the urge to sigh.

"Blackmail, Harry?"

"Oh, that's such an ugly word," Harry said, his cheeks tinged an embarrassed pink. "I prefer to think of it as...enforced cooperation."

"Nevertheless," Albus said, oddly relieved to find that Harry still had his Slytherin edge, "when that option failed, you behaved responsibly and took the matter to your Head of House, rather than engage Professor Umbridge in a duel."

Harry's eyes went dark, and he replied slowly, as if he were choosing each word carefully. "There are different ways of getting revenge."

Albus waited for a more comprehensive explanation, though he suspected he knew exactly why Harry had acted in such a way. Harry refused to say anything more, however.

It was Severus who interpreted Harry's actions that night, sounding almost approving. "Fighting back with curses and hexes would ultimately have gotten Potter in trouble. Doing things above board makes Madam Umbridge appear in the wrong, and shows Potter to be the victim. Taking this to Professor McGonagall and to you will also prove far more damaging to Umbridge's reputation, and gives Potter something to hold above Fudge's head, if they are ever in conflict. Potter would only have to mention Minister Fudge's negligence in assigning Umbridge to Hogwarts, and his career would effectively be over."

Harry merely shrugged.

"Or," Pomona spoke up bravely, "Mister Potter could be showing that he has inherited his mother's good sense and his father's courage."

"Either way," Albus said before Severus could reply, "I am very proud of you, Harry, as are we all." Severus sneered, but Albus shot him a look that forbade comment. "Fifty points to Gryffindor."

He noted, with quiet amusement, that Harry didn't protest that Minerva had already given him points. He also noticed the quietly smug look Harry sent Severus' way, and Severus' glare in response.

Minerva and Dolores arrived then, forestalling any arguments between the two.

"What, hem hem, is the meaning of this?" Dolores demanded the moment she stepped into the office. She was very pale, and looked outraged. "First the Half-Breed vampire, now this!"

The door closed, and the fire flared green as Amelia, Tonks, and Shacklebolt arrived right on time. Dolores froze.

Albus smiled.

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

_MITCH: The weirdest thing just happened to me._

_CHRIS: Was it a dream where you were standing in sort of sun-god robes on top of a pyramid, and there were hundreds of naked women screaming and throwing little pickles at you?_

_MITCH: No..._

_CHRIS: Why am I the only one who has that dream?_

_-Neal Israel_

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

An hour later, Bones had read all the students' testimonies, which had been copied down by a Quick-Quotes quill, and had questioned Harry extensively as to the happenings of both his detentions with his Defense professor. Harry embellished his tale a little, exaggerating Umbridge's cruelty and the pain the quill had caused. He laid it on rather thick, giving statements such as "I felt so safe here, after everything that happened on the streets, but now..." and "I knew she didn't like me, but I trusted all the Professors with my well-being, and she abused that trust".

Not even Sprout bought it, but the aurors gleefully copied down every word he said, knowing that however insincere Harry was being, his words would further damn his professor and gain him sympathy from everyone who read the article that would no doubt be in the next day's Daily Prophet.

Umbridge was arrested and Floo'd to Headquarters by Tonks and Shacklebolt, while Bones lingered for a few more moments. "Good job, Potter," she approved, clapping him on the shoulder. "Now, if anyone asks you any questions before the trial, don't say a word. You'll be called on to testify, of course, and I'd suggest you keep it short and sweet. None of this teary-eyed 'betrayed my trust' nonsense; it looks good in writing, but the Wizengamot isn't going to buy it. Best thing to do is be calm and concise."

"I'll let the other students know," Harry promised, taking her advice to heart. After all, she knew what would be most damaging to Umbridge - and considering one of her relatives had been taught by the Undersecretary, she'd certainly have a reason to want Umbridge put away forever.

"Good lad," Bones said with a thin smile, before nodding to Dumbledore and stepping into the fireplace.

Sprout and Flitwick stayed a few moments longer, but then left after excusing Harry from the homework due the next day, if he hadn't managed to finish it yet. He glanced hopefully at McGonagall and Snape after the other two were gone, and was met by a stern glare from the former and a sneer by the latter.

"Potter. Occlumency at your regular time," Snape said shortly, before turning on his heel and stalking away.

Harry gaped after his teacher in disbelief. The bastard!

"Really, that man..." McGonagall tsked.

"Well, Harry, best be on your way." Dumbledore looked far too amused.

Harry growled under his breath, but grabbed his time-turner out from under his robes and turned it three times.

McGonagall was gone, but Dumbledore was at his desk. The Headmaster looked mildly surprised to see him, but didn't risk disturbing the timeline by asking why he'd used the time-turner in his office.

Harry didn't offer an explanation or even a greeting, but strode through the doorway and closed the door with a disgruntled slam, letting the confused Headmaster know his displeasure.

Fortunately, Legilimency went surprisingly well that evening. Harry's anger had honed his concentration, and Snape was unusually distracted after having caught sight of a memory of himself in Dumbledore's office as they waited for Umbridge - something that hadn't happened yet to him.

Then someone knocked at the door, and Snape snapped, "Hide!"

Harry, stricken by deja vu, simply stared for a moment as he realized he'd been hiding from himself earlier in the evening. Then, seeing Snape's impatient glare, he ducked behind Snape's desk. A moment later, the door opened and McGonagall started talking.

It was decidedly odd, knowing his other self was standing not ten yards away. Harry wondered what would happen if he jumped out from behind the desk and confronted his younger self - would there be some rip in reality, if the two of them saw each other?

Finally, McGonagall and his past self set off for Dumbledore's office.

"Come out," Snape ordered. Harry stood, dusting himself off, and was taken aback by the way Snape looked him over, as if searching for injury. Was Snape actually worried about him?

He wished fervently that he'd paid more attention when he and McGonagall had gone to Snape's office - he wondered if he'd missed a similar reaction earlier.

"Remain here until you can return to your dorms without risking an encounter with your other self," Snape ordered shortly. "Do not touch anything."

Once he was gone, Harry collapsed into one of the less uncomfortable chairs in the office. It felt so good to sit down, to relax, given how tiring his day had been. He'd just close his eyes for a little...wait until it was time to go back...

Within moments, he'd fallen deeply asleep.

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

_When a mystery is too overpowering, one dare not disobey._

_-Antoine de Saint-Exupèry_

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

Ginny kept stealthily to the shadows, a package of cake in one hand, the Marauder's Map in the other.

The Map was her greatest ally, and a present from Fred and George. They'd given it to her during her second year; they said it was so she could carry on their works of mischief and mayhem, but she suspected it was a way to make her feel safe and secure after the diary fiasco in her first year.

She had no doubt they'd be proud to know she was currently breaking school rules to procure a midnight snack. Likewise, she had no doubt her mother would be horrified and absolutely livid. Ginny didn't really care either way - she was hungry, and she wanted to eat. If there were consequences, she'd deal with them later.

She was almost back to Gryffindor Tower when she glimpsed two dots coming towards her on the Map. Severus Snape and Harry Potter.

Eyes wide, her heart beating too quickly, she ducked into a corner, praying the deep shadows would provide enough cover.

Snape stalked down the hall, pulling a sleepy-looking Harry along by the shoulder.

"I said I was sorry," Harry said around a wide yawn, rubbing at his eyes with his free hand. "I had a long day. It's not a big deal."

Snape's knuckles went white around Harry's shoulder, and Ginny found herself wincing sympathetically even as she wondered what the hell was going on. "You absolute idiot," the man hissed. "Do you think this is a game? If anyone learns what you are doing, you're as good as dead."

"I know," Harry snapped as they passed right by Ginny's position. He sounded greatly aggrieved. "You've certainly told me often enough."

"And yet your undeniably thick skull continues to repels anything that could preserve your life. How a blockhead like you can even hope to survive in the service-"

"Heard it all before," Harry said, his voice getting louder and angrier. Ginny couldn't quite make out Snape's whispered reply, though it was no doubt harsh and sarcastic.

Before long, they faded from sight. Ginny waited where she was, her mind spinning with questions, and watched on the Map as Harry stumbled into Gryffindor Tower and Snape started back her way.

She held her breath as he passed her for the second time that night, not daring to move or make the slightest sound to give herself away.

Finally, he was gone and she was once again alone. Her limbs felt shaky and she was short of breath, but none of that mattered.

'In the service'... In the service of what?

Ginny had long suspected Snape wasn't as loyal to Dumbledore as the other professors. And she'd seen her parents exchange a significant look after Ron grumblingly accused the Potions Master of being a Death Eater one summer.

If Snape was a Death Eater...

...'in the service'.

But Harry couldn't - he was a half-blood, he _wouldn't_...he seemed so...

'He's friends with Malfoy', a little insidious voice reminded her. 'He's so moody, so unpredictable. His eyes are dark even when he's laughing. The Hat wanted him in Slytherin.'

"Merlin," she whispered as the enormity of the situation dawned on her. If Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, was a Death Eater...she had to tell Dumbledore or McGonagall. Someone.

But what if she was wrong? If she accused him and he wasn't a Death Eater, the suspicion would still damage his reputation irreparably.

She'd watch him, then. Prove one way or another whether he was loyal to Dumbledore. And if he wasn't...

Well, she'd just have to wait and see.

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

**Thanks to everyone who has reviewed. I'll try and update soon with a full list of thank-yous, and with what I've got written of chapter 15.**

**Ciao.**


	16. Chapter Fifteen: Importance Abounds

**IMPORTANT - PLEASE READ! THIS IS NOT A FULL CHAPTER!**

I wanted to post a note to tell you all that I am rewriting Invictus, taking into account the events of Book 6. Inspiration has indeed returned, at least somewhat. I will be reposting each chapter with revisions; it will, however, take some time. After I'm done with that, I'll get on with actually continuing the story. I don't want to make any promises – life has been hectic and my interest in Invictus waxes and wanes – but I think I'll have better luck writing it this time around.

A friendly warning: the rewritten version of Invictus (or Invictus 2.0, as I've taken to calling it) will have some important differences from the original version, so you might want to reread it once I'm done. I haven't really gotten very far with the revisions – just two chapters, and neither have been reposted yet – but I'm on winter break, so I should have time to get the entire story changed about.

As Author's Notes aren't allowed by themselves, and I certainly don't want to get my account shut down, I've also posted what I've got written of Chapter 15 of this version of Invictus. This will be the last update of this version.

Chapter 15, or at least what I've written of it, is unbeta'd, unedited, unchecked, unquotified, etc. You have been warned. Here be monstrous spelling and grammar.

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

Bongo was more than content with his position as Chance Cassidy's house elf. Mistress Chance wasn't kind, exactly, but neither was she cruel, and she was good friends with The Great Harry Potter.

Of course, Bongo was also content simply for having work to do. Many less imaginative house elves couldn't even conceive of being discontented while there was food to cook and floors to clean. Bongo was unusually self-aware for a house elf, however, and while he was happy with keeping the Lock and Lantern pristine and the denizens well-fed, he was also grateful that he'd gotten a rather cushy position in life with an owner who, for the most part, left him to his own devices.

And so it was in relatively good humor that Bongo woke a few hours before dawn and started sweeping, cleaning, and cooking in preparation for the first meal of the day.

Young Master Sheridan (Bongo couldn't bring himself to be so impudent as to call the boy by his nickname, Shay) woke with a cry of hunger at about three. Bongo hastened to the little Master's room to bottle-feed the child, who was all angry wails and teary brown eyes.

Hoping Mistress Chance hadn't woken - she could be rather short-tempered when her sleep was disrupted - Bongo finished feeding the child, settled him back into his crib, and popped back into the kitchen to finish some of his daily chores. Only a few people had stayed at the Inn overnight - business was bad, what with the Dark Lord out and about - so there wasn't very much to do.

An hour before dawn, Mistress Chance made her way into the kitchen, sleepy-eyed and scowling. "Damn sun. Damn birds twittering in the bloody trees. Damn mornings," she muttered, spitting out a wisp of hair that had made its way into her mouth. "Damn hair. Damn _life_."

Bongo winced. She was in one of _those_ moods.

"Damn house elf," she added for good measure, upon seeing him.

He bowed silently, deeply grateful that house elf females didn't experience the odd transformation that, once a month, made perfectly amicable human women turn into raving lunatics.

"Don't you look at me like that," Mistress Chance snapped. Bongo was just a little too slow in glancing away, because his Mistress' cool grey eyes became watery and sad.

"Why are you staring at me? Because I look awful, don't I? I know I've gained weight..."

She burst into tears. Bongo tried to melt into the floor - this was far worse than usual. Normally Mistress Chance just got snappy and rude.

She never, never cried.

Well, except for those times when she'd been pregnant, but Bongo had tried to block those memories from his mind. He was sure The Great Harry Potter had done the same.

The solution, Bongo suspected, was to find something that would make Mistress Chance angry (and hope like hell that she wasn't pregnant again). Mistress Chance _liked_ being angry, and would stop crying and start yelling, and Bongo knew where he stood with a yelling Mistress Chance. A little above knee level, generally.

Fortunately, with a stroke of luck that had to have come from whatever gods could bring themselves to bother with house elves, an owl with the morning paper arrived just then. Mistress Chance, sniffling and wiping snot onto the sleeve of her nightdress, snatched at it and sent the owl away with a knut.

She unfolded the paper and glanced at the front page, more out of habit than inclination.

She froze.

She stopped crying.

Her nostrils flared, her jaw tightened with anger, and her knuckles went white where she clutched the Prophet. Bongo watched nervously as her lips moved while she read, hoping this would do the trick.

"That utter bitch!" his Mistress screeched after a few tense minutes, which Bongo had spent looking industrious and busy, just in case she got _too_ angry. "A blood-spill quill? On _Harry?_"

Bongo froze. "Great Harry Potter has been hurt?" he demanded, before realizing he'd spoken out of turn. He immadiately whacked himself a few times on the head with his duster, but considering the handle was lightweight wood and the rest was pink feathers, the most it did to him was tickle his ears and make him sneeze.

"Oh, stop that," Mistress snapped. "And yes - the Defense professor hurt him and several of his schoolmates."

Bongo was horrified. "No one is to hurt children!" he cried, aghast. Much like centaurs, house elves cherished young lives. After all, offspring were a lot of work, and house elves _liked_ work.

"Quite so," his Mistress agreed, in that sort of frozen calm that meant she was well and truly furious. "Bongo, fetch me some parchment, my quill, and my ink. I have a couple letters to write. And bring the fastest owl we have from the owlery."

And because Bongo wasn't one to argue with a direct order, especially when Mistress Chance was having one of _those_ days, he dropped the duster and did as he was told.

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

Harry glared sourly around the Great Hall, wishing people would stop pointing at him and whispering. The Daily Prophet hadn't even arrived yet, but somehow everyone knew roughly what had happened the previous night, and that Umbridge had apparently been torturing students ever since she arrived at the school the year before. Of course, this being Hogwarts, all rumors soon spun wildly out of control.

By the time the food had been served, Umbridge had, according to rumor, killed off at least three students and fed them to the Giant Squid; allied herself with Snape to better torment their innocent pupils; and developed an interest in chains and whips and thumbscrews, and possibly the rack. At least, Harry thought that Hufflepuff meant 'rack' as in torture device. Any other meaning, when applied to Umbridge, was simply too horrible to contemplate.

Harry himself, as the rumors flew, became some sort of knight in shining armor who had subdued the evil sorceress and freed from a secret room in the dungeons several captives (said to be some skinny-looking first years that no one ever paid attention to, and thus could possibly have been missing for some time without anyone noticing).

Only a few people wanted to know what had actually happened; most Hogwarts students were content to let their imaginations run wild, as the truth was often disappointing. Of course, those who wanted to know what really went on between Harry and the exiled teacher were Harry's friends.

Harry managed to shrug off their questions, ignoring Draco's annoyance and Neville's hurt look. "You'll all know what happened sooner or later," he said gloomily.

"Yes, well, I'd much rather it be sooner," Draco retorted. "Do you have any idea how frustrating it is to not have information to hold over everyone else's heads? I feel positively common."

"The horror," Harry dead-panned.

"You weren't hurt too badly, were you?" Neville asked worriedly. "Gran told me about those quills - she said they can leave scars, if you use them too often. You aren't - she didn't-"

"I'm fine," Harry said, less testily than he'd answered most similar queries. When everyone else had asked if he was all right, it was really just an attempt to gain information. But Neville seemed genuinely concerned.

At least one person was more worried about Luna than was Harry. Everyone knew, after all, that Luna had weathered her share of confrontations with Umbridge, and so Theodore was ignoring Harry in favor of trying to extract information from his crush.

It was rather amusing to watch, in a morbid sort of way.

Harry privately thought the entire scene would have been more amusing if it had played out a few weeks earlier, when Theo was still distracted enough to think whatever Luna said made perfect sense. Unfortunately, Theo was back to his normal self, depriving Harry of a prime source of entertainment.

"Ah, Luna," Theo said, sidling over to where the blonde Ravenclaw was seated at the Gryffindor table, across from Harry and next to Neville. A lot of the Gryffindors weren't too happy that people from other houses were starting to invade their territory, but they mostly let it slide.

"Theodore!" Luna cried, as if she hadn't seen the Slytherin boy for weeks. "You won't believe what has happened!"

Everyone in earshot went quiet, wondering what she'd have to say about events with Umbridge. Theodore looked both fearful and angry - the same expression Harry imagined he'd worn himself when he realized Luna was one of Umbridge's victims.

"Yes? What?" Theo asked eagerly, toying absently with the amulet his father had given him. There was complete silence, everyone waiting with bated breath for a first-hand account of Umbridge's crimes.

"The Heliopaths have mutinied," she said, eyes wide. "Father says witnesses have reported seeing them running free in the wilderness!"

The silence took on a less expectant, and more incredulous, feel.

"Right," Theo said, blinking. Harry resisted the urge to laugh. "Ah, but, you know, what about everything with Umbridge?"

"Thoroughly despicable woman," Luna said airily. "I've no doubt it was due to her that the Heliopaths rebeled. Have I shown you my cork collection?"

And that was that; Theo was unable to extract any more information about Umbridge from Luna, and the rest of the school resolved once and for all that Loony Luna Lovegood was mad as an elderly hatter.

Yet the breakfast-time drama didn't truly begin until the mail arrived, carried by flocks of owls.

The Prophet was read with great interest by everyone, including Harry. He was somewhat aggravated by the way the writers managed to make him sound like some sort of martyred hero.

It was disgusting, not to mention embarrassing.

More than that, though, it was annoying. The Prophet's front-page article had prompted a veritable slew of letters either hailing Harry as the next Dumbledore or denouncing him as a degenerate brat trying to get a perfectly respectable woman in trouble. Draco, of course, just had to snatch a few of the letters, and due to the general unfairness of the universe, the ones he'd taken happened to be among the most embarrassing.

"Oh, look," he sneered, "a girl in America who wants to bear your lovechild. 'Oh, Harry, my loins tingle at the mere thought of you, my heart beats madly, like a madman trying to force his way out of his padded room; I dream of kissing you madly, of your lips on mine. Your name is so melodic, so madly beautiful - Harry Potter. Harry. Harry, you mad beast...' Harry, I never knew you were such a…_mad_…hit with women."

Ginny, though she'd previously been oddly quiet, giggled...well, madly. Neville had gone a rather bright red, while Theo, the traitor, snickered and demanded an encore.

"That girl sounds rather odd," Luna said, poking at her eggs with her wand. "You know, these look rather like Shnargle brains."

Further down the table, Granger was muttering angrily about floozies with no self-respect and Ron was laughing even harder than his sister. The rest of the Gryffindors were trying very hard to look like they weren't equally amused.

For one shining moment, Gryffindors and Slytherins were united in the cause of making Harry wish fervently that he'd never been born.

Draco smirked and read another. "And here's a good one...'You horrible horrible boy, Madame Umbridge never done a thing wrong, don't you talk about her like that. Someone should give you a good seeing-to. Dolores Umbridge is a fine woman, better than scum like you, you nasty cretin'. Harry, you're being contacted by delusional idiots. Now you have finally attained true celebrity status."

"Shut _up_, Draco."

"What about this one?" Draco asked, slitting open another envelope. Harry grabbed at the letter, but Draco was far enough away that he only had to lean back to be out of range.

Eyes glinting maliciously, he started to read: "'Harry - saw the article. Can't believe Dumbledore would let someone like that into the school; mark my words, I have a few choice things to say to him...'" Draco trailed off, scanning over the rest of the letter.

"Ah, Harry," Draco said slowly, "do you know someone named Chance?"

"What? Yes! Give me that!"

"No need to get out of sorts," Draco sniffed, tossing him the letter. "Is this your secret girlfriend, then?"

"No," Harry said curtly, glaring around him in an attempt to quell his classmates' curiosity.

"Thank Merlin," Draco sighed. "Considering the way she signed the letter, it'd be rather kinky if you _were_ dating."

Harry blinked, then turned to the letter and read it through - Chance wanted to see him the next time he had a Hogsmeade weekend, if possible. She said it was important, and that both Shay and Bongo were fine. She also ranted on for a few pages about what she would like to do to Umbridge, and ended the letter with an unspeakably embarrassing, 'All my love, Aunty Chance'.

Thank God Draco hadn't read that bit aloud.

"Draco," he said, glaring, "if you ever, ever read my mail again..."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Yes yes, dismemberment and foul torture. I know. Who's Bongo?"

Harry scowled. What a twerp.

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

Chance paced her bedroom, her son watching sleepily from his crib. She'd sent off a letter to Harry, and one to the Headmaster of Hogwarts. She only hoped they got back to her soon.

It was still early, only ten in the morning, so the tavern was closed. Two of those who'd rented rooms last night had already cleared out, leaving just one - a notorious late riser who'd slept at the Lock and Lantern on more than a few occasions, mostly because he was an old friend of Chance's with nowhere else to stay on those occasions when he wanted to get away from his overbearing wife.

Thus, it came as a surprise when Bongo knocked timidly on her closed door and squeaked that she had a visitor.

After hastily pulling her dark hair back into a sloppy bun, Chance swept Shay up into her arms and walked downstairs, wondering who would call on her in the middle of the morning. It couldn't be Dumbledore...at least, it had better not be Dumbledore... To be seen on as being on amicable terms with the Headmaster would be borderline suicidal, at least for her.

An unfamiliar figure stood stiffly just inside the front doorway of the main room. He wore expensive-looking robes, and his hair was dark and slicked back. He looked...well, there was something distinctly shifty about him, despite his apparent wealth - or perhaps due to it. The man reeked of old money and purebloodedness, and in Chance's experience, wealthy purebloods were to be avoided at all costs.

She should know - she did, after all, come from a rich pureblooded family. Fortunately, her parents had been rather less traditional than the rest of the Cassidys, and had encouraged her to choose her own path in life rather than become just another aristocrat.

"Can I help you?" she asked, wishing she had left Shay upstairs. There was a glint in her visitor's eye that put her on edge.

"Yes, Miss Cassidy, I believe you can," the man said, all silk and poison.

Chance suddenly felt afraid. She had a horrible feeling she knew just who this man was - or rather, who he represented.

"Oh?" she said noncomittally, while plotting an escape route. Her arms tightened protectively around Shay, who slobbered on her shoulder in the pretense of a kiss.

"Yes indeed," the man said, smiling like a shark. "Madam, you may have heard of me. I am Athanasius Nott."

Chance's heart sank. Nott. Of course she'd heard of Nott; everyone who had connections with the darker elements of magical society knew he'd been a Death Eater, even if the Ministry never managed to prove it.

In some ways, he was even worse than, say, Lucius Malfoy. Malfoy had more influence and more money, but Nott was, according to just about everything she'd heard, by far the cleverest of the Death Eaters. And the most ruthless.

He was enjoying her reaction, as well - her shock, her fear.

Somehow, she managed to muster a smile, though she had no doubt it looked sickly. Why would a Death Eater come here, just to see her? Unless Snape...if Snape had told the Dark Lord of her friendship with Harry, of her declared neutrality...

It had been a risk, being so free with her former Head of House, and now she was beginning to think it had been a foolish one.

Deadly, even.

"You said I could help you?" she managed to say, surprised at how calm her voice came out.

"I did," Athanasius agreed, deceptively amiable. "I have a...an associate, one might say, of considerable power, Miss Cassidy, and he has taken something of an interest in you."

Oh Merlin. Associate? Chance managed not to grimace at the overly clichéd euphemism.

If she got out of this alive, she was going to kill Snape.

"Is that so," she said flatly, praying that Shay would be left unharmed even if she was killed.

As if somehow knowing his mother's attention had returned to him, Shay babbled happily to her, wrapping his chubby arms around her neck. Nott's smile grew even sharper.

"This associate of mine," Nott continued, eyes heavy-lidded, "feels that a woman with your...connections...could be of considerable use."

"Connections," she repeated blankly, her mouth dry.

"You have many friends, Miss Cassidy, in both areas of wizarding society," Nott said, looking much like a cat stalking a mouse. "A natural byproduct of running an Inn, I suppose."

Chance's eyes narrowed. Friends...but no mention made of a specific green-eyed friend. Could it be that this wasn't about Harry, that Snape had kept silent? Or was Nott just being as vague as possible?

"You say I have friends," she said slowly. "Exactly what sort of friends do you mean?"

"You are known to dwell somewhat...how shall I put this...in the grays of life, Madam. And your Inn is well-known both for its hospitality and your lack of curiosity when it comes to your customers' private lives. Friends of mine stop here often, as do friends of powerful wizards who have philosophies conflicting with those of my associate. A woman who is well-liked, who doesn't ask questions but listens very carefully to all that is said under her roof...a woman like that could go very far with the correct sponsorship."

Chance tried very hard not to gape. She was being recruited. It was so utterly ridiculous...

...yet it wasn't unexpected. She was, after all, a pureblood and a former Slytherin, known for casting a dark spell or two in her time... Hell, she'd even been taken out of the running for Head Girl because she was pegged as a future Death Eater!

But given the letters she'd written just a few hours ago, this all seemed surreal and somewhat comedic, in a 'laugh and end up with your entrails decorating your own tavern' way.

"I see," Chance said, wishing desperately that the man would just go away. "And when does your...associate...want an answer?"

Nott looked briefly surprised at her question; he had no doubt expected her to jump at the chance to serve the Dark Lord.

"My associate," and oh, she was getting so heartily sick of that stupid phrase, "is willing to give you a week to decide your course of action. I would like to remind you, however," he added, glancing pointedly at her son, "that it is best for everyone involved if you decide favorably in as timely a manner as possible."

"I'll keep that in mind," Chance said faintly. Half of her was willing to give in right then and there to keep Shay safe; the rest of her wanted to claw Nott's face off for daring to threaten her son, however obliquely.

"Good day, Miss Cassidy," Nott said, and let himself out.

Chance breathed out shakily and buried her face in Shay's curly blond hair, ignoring his whimper of annoyance. "Merlin," she murmured. "What the hell am I supposed to do now?"

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

Class that day was...well, not hell, he supposed, but certainly not heaven. Purgatory, maybe.

It should have been nice, having all - or at least most - of his teachers doting on him. But frankly, it was creepy and irritating, especially as Granger inexplicably wasn't muttering disparaging comments just loud enough for the teachers to realize they were favoring him outrageously and stop.

The rest of his classmates were just as bad. They seemed torn between treating him like a hero or treating him like someone who had undergone horrible torture and was now mentally, if not physically, scarred for life.

The fiftieth time someone asked if he was _sure_ he was feeling all right, he snapped.

"I got a cut. It's gone. If anything in the past few months has scarred me forever, it was being forced to listen to Dumbledore's version of The Talk, all right?"

Of course, then everyone had to know what he was talking about, so Draco gleefully explained.

The hero-worship and pitying looks died down, then, to be replaced by smirks and giggles and ribald comments of, "Hey, Potter! _Holstered _your _wand _yet?"

Even worse was the occasional response by someone who'd witnessed his disastrous class with Umbridge a few days before. "No," one person called back, "but he's sure polishing it well!"

To top things off, Ginny was treating him like he was a leper. She wouldn't go near him, and every now and then he caught her looking him over coldly. It was disconcerting, especially as he didn't have any clue what he'd done to anger her.

By dinner, Harry was in an absolutely foul mood. He snapped and snarled and growled enough that even Draco started keeping a wide berth. Only Neville dared brave Harry's temper, mostly because Harry couldn't bring himself to be cruel to the chubby boy. Bullying Neville was like using a flamethrower on a little fluffy baby bunny. Harry didn't have the heart for it.

Really, it was as bad as trying to be cruel to Luna. She didn't even notice half the time, and the other half she thought whatever insults got thrown her way were hysterically funny, and would laugh until the offender retreated out of sheer embarrassment. Not that Harry had ever deliberately insulted Luna, but since coming to Hogwarts, he'd certainly seen others do so.

In fact, the only person who really seemed to get to Luna was Umbridge, and she was out of the picture now.

Harry sighed, drawing yet another concerned look from Neville. "What's wrong?" Neville asked quietly, so others at the Gryffindor table couldn't overhear. Fortunately, everyone else was staying as far away from Harry's bad mood as possible, so there really wasn't anyone around to eavesdrop.

"What isn't?" Harry complained. "Ginny's been weird around me all day, I'm the laughingstock of the school because of that stupid Talk, _and_ I have my extra lessons tonight with Snape."

Neville winced. "I'd forgotten," the other boy confessed softly. "That you had extra lessons, I mean. Snape teaches?"

"Some of them," Harry said cautiously, not wanting to get too detailed.

"Still," Neville said, with a shy smile, "at least you don't have detention tonight."

Harry blinked, then chuckled. "At least there's that," he agreed tiredly.

"Maybe you should get some rest," Neville said, shifting back into mother hen mode. "You do have a little time before lessons, don't you? You probably shouldn't be yawning like that when you show up."

Harry, who had indeed been yawning, shook his head. "I should get there early," he said. Snape hadn't asked him to, but there were a few things Harry wanted to ask the surly Potions Master, and figured he'd best do it before lessons, rather than after, so Snape couldn't just kick him out.

"You should go, then," Neville said, nodding to the Head Table. Snape had just gotten up. "It looks like he's leaving."

Harry waited until Snape had left the Great Hall, then followed. He didn't go directly to the Slytherin's office, though - he didn't want to be _too_ early as he wasn't sure how long he could stand being in close quarters with the Potions Bastard. Besides, there was something else he wanted to do first.

Leander didn't seem to surprised to see him this time, just nodded and asked, "What d'you want now?"

Harry grinned. "Getting tired of me?"

The vampire snorted. "I've been tired of you for years, Harry."

"Really not feeling the love, here!"

"My heart shrieks in pain."

Harry stared. "Well, that's...interesting imagery."

"Why are you here, Harry?" Leander sighed, eyebrows raised questioningly.

"What?" Harry demanded defensively. "Who says I can't just be here on a visit?"

"From what I've been given to understand," Leander said dryly, "you haven't the time to visit for purely social reasons. Now, get to the point."

"Aren't you just a sour little ball of bile," Harry muttered. Leander grinned just enough to bare his fangs.

"Fine, fine," Harry said with a sigh. "I was wondering if you could post a guard at the Lock and Lantern. She sent a letter today, and was less than discreet - if it had fallen into the wrong hands, everyone would've known which side she was on. I'm worried about her."

"Already done," Leander said, looking bored.

"What?"

"I'm not as incompetent as you seem to think," the prince said sharply.

Harry frowned. "When have I ever called you incompetent?" he demanded. "That business with the other vampires isn't your fault, I know that, though I'm still angry you didn't tell me sooner."

Leander shrugged. "I'd not lecture others about keeping secrets, Harry. You certainly have enough of your own."

Harry bit back an angry retort, and said instead, "Yeah, whatever you say. I have a lesson."

Leander sneered. "Of course you do. You never used to run away, Harry."

Harry looked at his friend in disbelief. "I never did anything _but_ run away, Leander. What the hell is your problem, anyway?"

"Maybe I'm tired of being your kept vampire."

"Excuse me?"

Leander leaned in close to Harry, his eyes flashing blue lightning. "Let's take a close look at the past few months, Harry," he hissed. "The vampires assemble to fight on your side - because of me. I give up my time - my life - to guard yours. I post guards for your friends, I do everything I can to keep you safe, I beg the forest creatures to ally with you... And what've you done, Harry? Yelled at me because I don't give enough, ignored me because my presence is inconvenient, commanded me to do your bidding as if I'm a house elf."

Harry stared, shell-shocked. "What - you can't-"

"Go to your lesson, Harry," Leander said tiredly. "I have things to do."

"I saved your life," Harry said, and then cursed himself for saying it. He'd never, ever willingly brought that up before, never took advantage of that fact...

"Yes, you did," Leander agreed, eyes and expression unreadable. "And I'm beginning to think it's the only reason I bother sticking around."

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

Harry slammed into Snape's office, seething with anger and hurt. How could Leander...did he really think...why the hell was everything going wrong on a day everything should have been going right?

"Potter," Snape said as the door banged shut, "Dumbledore wishes to see you in his office tomorrow after dinner. He has ordered that your lesson tomorrow be canceled." The Professor sounded less than happy about Dumbledore's command.

"What's he want?" Harry demanded, glaring.

Snape's eyes narrowed. "Five points for disrespect, Potter."

Somehow, Harry managed to stop from showing the older man some real disrespect.

The lesson went downhill from there, steeply enough that Harry briefly thought he'd arrived in hell. Snape was completely without mercy, and Harry's reserves were depleted enough that he almost found himself begging for respite. By the time Snape kicked him out, Harry felt like crawling off somewhere and crying himself to sleep.

But then, Harry never cried. Tears were a weakness, and he couldn't afford weaknesses.

Besides, the last time he'd cried his eyelashes had stuck together and one had ended up stabbing him in the eye, which hurt like hell.

He almost headed back to Gryffindor Tower, but something made him remember Leander's earlier accusation - that he was running away.

Well, his lesson was over now. And he needed to clear the air with Leander. It didn't feel right, being so at odds with one of the few people he trusted. And Leander had a really freaky habit of putting dead vermin in Harry's bed when they were fighting. The vampire was as bad as a bloody cat.

Yawning all the way there, Harry finally arrived at Leander's rooms. He was about to knock when the door opened; Leander had no doubt anticipated his arrival.

"Ah. Harry," Leander said, sounding a little guilty.

Harry tried to respond, but another yawn overtook him, making his eyes tear up and his jaw crack. He wondered briefly if he could use his teary eyes to get some sympathy, maybe even a quick apology.

"Don't even think about it."

Harry scowled. "Mindreader," he accused, only it came out 'Mindreeeaaadaaaaaa', as yet another yawn tore itself from him.

Leander rolled his eyes. "Now I remember why I stay around," he muttered, herding Harry into the room. "You'd kill yourself out of sheer negligence if I didn't."

"We okay?" Harry managed to ask, even as he climbed into Leander's bed and curled up under the blankets.

Leander sighed. "Yes. Now sleep. I don't intend to be held responsible for your sudden death of extreme fatigue."

"Ass."

"Idiot."

"Bastaaaaahhh-"

Harry was asleep by the time he finished yawning.

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

The next day was somewhat better, probably because it was a Saturday. Saturdays made everything better, because Harry could hide and pretend he didn't exist without being dragged to class by one of his traitorous friends.

He and Leander spent most of the day...not talking, because they were manly men who didn't need to, you know, get into any of that sensitive stuff...but by dinner, they were on good terms again.

Just as ordered, Harry went to the Headmaster's office after dinner. Dumbledore wasn't there, but Fawkes, with his scarlet and gold feathers resplendent, trilled a pleasant greeting.

Harry frowned, wondering why Dumbledore would have called him up to an empty office.

He normally would have taken advantage of such a situation by looking through the Headmaster's papers and searching the office for anything of interest, but the portraits lining the walls were watching him carefully, as if they were just waiting for him to put a toe out of line so they could report him. Harry wondered, a little sourly, if this was some kind of test. Dumbledore didn't go for petty manipulations - at least, Harry doubted he did - but it never hurt to be a suspicious bastard.

Well, okay, so it didn't exactly help his social life, but at least he was still alive and breathing.

"Ah, Harry."

Harry jumped guiltily, though for once he hadn't actually done anything wrong. "Headmaster," he said, turning towards the old man, who stood framed in the doorway.

"I trust you are doing well?" Dumbledore looked genuinely concerned, so Harry didn't bristle too much at the implication that he wasn't perfectly fine all of the time, no matter what.

"Well enough," he said instead with a shrug. "What did you want me here for?"

Dumbledore surveyed him critically over the tops of his spectacles, brow furrowed in thought. "I believe, Harry," he said finally, "that it is time you learned more about Tom Riddle."

oo00oo00oo00oo00oo

Keep a lookout for the reposted chapters! Thanks to everyone who reviewed, I adore you all.


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